Safe
by LobsangLudd
Summary: GlennxDaryl Glenn's Zombie Apocalypse plan worked out better than anticipated. Follows seasons 1 and 2 fairly closely without really recapping. Spoilers abound! (no season 3 spoilers, I haven't seen it yet)
1. Liquor Depot

**Safe**

_Glenn's ill-concieved Zombie Attack plan worked out surprisingly well_

**Note on the Setting**: Here in Texas we have a big chain of liquor stores called Spec's. They have a good selection but what really sets them apart from similar stores is that they are freaking HUGE. Like the size of an Academy Sports Equipment or a small Wal-Mart huge. I don't know if Georgia has something similar, but for the purposes of this story, when I say Liquor Depot think massive.

**AN**: Thanks Doctorkaitlyn for writing Scraping, which inspired me to re-write this completely. If any of you have missed it, I suggest you bounce right over there after reading this.

_Thanksgiving, 2 years pre-outbreak_

"So first I'd get my dad's shotgun, obviously, and I'd load up the jeep with food and shit, and I'd drive way way out of town, like away from all the towns, and I'd find a farmhouse a million miles from everything and board up all the windows."

"That's your plan? What about the farmer?"

"I bang his hot daughter so we can continue the human race."

Drunken laughter.

"How are you going to get your jeep out of town? The traffic is going to be horrible."

"Glenn's right, that idea fucking sucks. Me, I'm gonna get a sniper rifle and a duffel bag full of snacks, and climb into the tree house my dad built when I was a kid. Zombie's are too dumb to climb! Then I wait it out in complete safety, and shoot the ones that get too close in the head."

"You would have no idea how to use a sniper rifle, let alone maintain it. And what are you planning to do when you run out of supplies? I guarantee the zombies can out wait you."

Drunken glare followed by more drunken laughter.

"I don't know why ya'll are so intent on livin' like savages. Everyone know the best part of the end of the world is the looting. First I'm going to swing by the Kitty Cat Club and pick up all the honies there that'er too scared to get away. Then I'll take 'em to that fancy mall uptown, the one with the IMAX and the huge food court, and we'll wait it out in the lap of luxury, just me and all those grateful strippers."

Raised eyebrow.

"That mall is going to be so full of zombies. Even if you managed to kill all the zombies that were in there, presumably using nothing but stiletto heels since you didn't mention any weapons, that mall has at least a dozen entrances. How are you and your harem going to secure them all in between the massive orgies?"

Confused look.

"There's a gun store in the mall. Duh."

"Everyone else is going to have the same idea. Even if by some miracle you get to the mall before it's been completely picked over, you'll spend most of your time fighting other survivors for supplies."

Three annoyed looks and one rather smug one.

"Okay fine, what's your genius plan for the Zombie Apocalypse Glenn?"

Smile.

"First off I'm going to grab two duffle bags and head over to the Liquor Depot. . ."

_Summer, 3 weeks post outbreak_

It was never meant to be an actual working plan. To be completely honest he was surprised that he remembered the damned thing. It was really long and specific and he had been drunk off his ass while ironing out the details, he and a few coworkers drinking beer and pretending it wasn't entirely pathetic to be eating cold pizza and discussing zombie movies on Thanksgiving. Still, Glenn had always been good at plans. He had a knack for identifying weak points and working around them.

His Grandfather was big on plans. Grampa had plans and back up plans and contingency plans for every plausible eventuality, bank robberies to house fires to car accidents. He'd always told Glenn that if you had a solid plan then nothing would take you by surprise. Glenn hadn't ever really thought he needed plans, though he had humored his grandfather by drawing them up anyway when he was a boy. When the old man died the plan making became reflexive. What do I do if I get hit by a car? What do I do if someone tries to break into my crappy apartment? What do I do if I get wrongly accused of a crime? He still had never really needed one, but there was something relaxing about making them. He wasn't afraid of anything, because no matter what happened he had a plan for it.

When it became clear that the crazy disjointed reports were actually signifying the end of the world he had started following his zombie plan automatically. It might not have been a serious plan, but it was a plan and as long as he followed it everything would be fine.

So far his half drunken logic had been right on the money. No one had bothered trying to loot a liquor store during the first few weeks while they were on the run for their lives; the massive windowless building had been almost completely deserted when he'd pulled his bike up to it two weeks ago. The safe had been emptied as had the registers, and there was a broken case on the wall he was pretty sure had once held an old Winchester Repeater, but the shelves and all their contents was intact. Steps one through six of the plan involved packing, getting to the liquor store, and blocking up the entrances. These all went off without a hitch. He saw a lot of dead people, but very few of the geeks noticed him. The store itself had only one walker inside, but she was easily dispatched with the crowbar he'd kept from his misspent, car-thieving youth. He didn't even hesitate bashing her skull it, she was obviously a zombie, her jaw hanging half off her face, and the plan clearly stated that he was to kill all zombies instantly and without remorse.

The plan was good because of its simplicity. It had flaws as all plans do, it relied a bit on luck and quite a bit on the kindness of other survivors, but it had a solid base. In the end it had been agreed by everyone that his plan was the most realistic because it didn't require him to spontaneously develop any skills like wilderness survival, sharpshooting, or Kung Fu. The plan was, in essence, to hole up and wait for rescue.

He had chosen the Liquor Depot for two reasons, it's large "Finer Foods" section and it's selection of top shelf liquors. The "finer" food was mostly non perishable because the refrigeration units had to be kept for the beer, and other than the chips and a small freezer full of ice cream bars the food section had a very small turnover rate. The Depot also prided themselves on variety, so though it would be salty, at least his food would be nutritionally diverse. Steps seven through twelve included inventorying what he had, separating it into food groups, and filling his duffles with a good mix to be stashed at the two doors. (He made a last minute change to the plan and included in each of the bags several bottles of fluid in the form of carbonated water and juices from the mixer section. Apparently his drunk self had forgotten the need to hydrate.) This took up a little more than half of the second day, leaving him the whole afternoon to get started on Stage 3 of his plan, which involved the booze.

Glenn's reasoning had been slightly complex, but he thought it made mathmatical sense. Zombies strength came in their superior numbers, so the only way to survive in the wasteland was with a group of other survivors, because the more people in you group the smaller the advantage the zombies had. He didn't, however, want to join just any large group. The larger the group the better the chance that someone would do something so stupid they got everyone else killed. A group of normal people who had simply been lucky enough to survive that was large enough to have a real chance against the horde would be so big that the chances of someone doing something astronomically stupid was pretty much assured. What he needed was people who had been surviving because they had skills that offset the relative disadvantage they had, rather than surviving on pure dumb luck. Cops, army guys, and rednecks were his best chance he decided, and those groups all struck him as having the skill and the desire to make a special supply run for whiskey and beer when the initial fervor had died down.

Glenn spent the next several hours carefully going through the store and selecting bottles to use as currency if he had to escape the store early and buy his way into a refugee group. He tried to stick to well known brands and didn't take anything with a price tag of less than a hundred dollars. His goal was to get a good sized selection of liquor that the common working man would have heard of, but probably would never imagine they would actually get to taste. He ended up carefully filling a rather large canvas tote with four bottles of Johnnie Walker Blue, two of Stagg bourbon, one thirty year old bottle of Glenfidditch, a few fancy wines just in case, and the single most expensive bottle of champagne he could find. He then spent a painstaking few hours rearranging everything so that the "manly drinks," (whiskeys, beer, rums, and tequilas) were in the center of the store surrounded on all sides by a maze of alcopops, fruity wines, and girly spirits like coconut vodka and Blue Curacao to delay any potential saviors from grabbing what they wanted and running in case they showed up while he was sleeping or taking a leak. This was done not because he assumed that only men would have the necessary acumen to make it in the wasteland, but rather because he suspected any women with the skills necessary to get to the liquor store would be too smart to risk their lives for a few bottles of Zima.

Once Glenn had carried out the plan all the way through step twenty-seven (arrange his supply of food in order of how appetizing things were so he could ration the good stuff and didn't end up with a diet made up entirely of Vienna sausage and the weird grayish glop that in no way resembled Kimchi despite what the cartoon radish on the jar said) he had been in hiding for four days and despite the relative lack of serious planning, had found his strategy to have very few holes. He fixed himself a celebration meal of cured salami and pickled okra, and sat back to wait for his survival group. This is where the plan hit a road block, because for all his planning, he didn't have a strategy for what to do to keep from going nuts when he was barricaded alone in a huge impersonal building surrounded on all side by bloodthirsty monsters.

The main issue wasn't the loneliness. He was lonely, that was certainly true, so much so that he frequently found himself having philosophical discussions in his head with the large St. Pauli Girl cutout in the imported beers section. (Unfortunately they had gotten into a bit of a tiff about the ethics of dipping into the owners very small stash of weed and she hadn't spoken to him in a few days) The loneliness was only a fringe problem though, the main hitch in his plan was that there was no one to watch his back. Glenn could handle himself better than most. If he had a purpose and a plan he had no fear. But when the plan ran out and he was left with nothing to do but sit around and wait he had way too much time to think and he was having trouble coping with the very real nightmare the world had found itself in. Combined with the lack of sleep and the constant state of barely contained fear, his paranoia was starting to climb to nearly irrational levels. No matter how quiet it was, how securely he had barricaded the doors, there was a consistent niggling feeling that he should go check them. If he posted himself just out of sight inside the main door so he could watch it, he would be constantly twitching, jerking his head around trying to check the short hallway to the back entrance. Worst of all, though he tried everything short of drinking himself into a fearless stupor, he could not get to sleep. Though he made it a point to force himself to lie down in the secured back office every night, he couldn't stand to have the lights off, or his eyes closed for more than a few minutes. Inevitably the itch would be too much and after an hour or so of staring at the ceiling he would arm himself with his crowbar and go to check the doors. He'd passed out from the exhaustion once, out in the middle of the store where any geek who bothered to squeeze past his defenses would have an easy meal. When he came to, more than a day later, he was panicky and disoriented. Not at all rested. He freaked out and rushed around checking and rechecking the doors for a good two hours before he calmed down enough to post himself by the front door and eat something.

He was so exhausted, three days after his terrifying blackout, that he almost wrote the first real, flesh an blood living humans he had seen in sixteen days off as a hallucination.

In any other situation, they would have been the kind of guys he would have a plan ready specifically to get away from. They were living stereotypes of good ole' boys, shirt sleeves cut off, scruffy and filthy. They forced their way in just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Glenn's recently developed fear of everything kept him from approaching them even though they were exactly what he had been waiting for. He tried to make himself as small as possible hiding in his nest among the shopping carts. The bigger one was _loud_. He strutted around with a nervous sort of energy, calling out an unending commentary liberally peppered with curses and a vast array of offensive slurs. He looked for the hard liquor for a little while but quickly settled for a case of Colt 45 double malt that Glenn hadn't bothered to move into the center of the store.

The younger one was an almost polar opposite, sitting quietly on an overturned crate as he kept an eye on the door. The only movement he made was when he languidly stretched to take a drag on the hand rolled cigarette between his fingers, the only sound an occasional grunt in response to something his older counterpart said. Watching him made Glenn calmer. He felt the ache as the tension he had been holding in his entire body started to slowly ease.

The twitchy one, whom the other had absently identified as Merle, finished off the better part of the case before dropping off to sleep sprawled out on his back across the bare floor. The other man stayed where he was, so still and contemplative that when he spoke, Glenn was startled to the point of nearly crying out.

"You plannin' on hiding over there all night?" Glenn scrambled out of the entanglement of shopping carts, the sound of the clanging metal almost deafening in the otherwise silent store. He looked nervously at Merle, but the much larger man only huffed in his sleep and scratched his chest, dead to the world. The other man watched him, stony faced and silent, as Glenn quickly made his way over and perched carefully on the edge of the crate he was using as a bench. It was far, far closer than would be considered appropriate for a casual friend, let alone a complete stranger, but the redneck didn't mention it. He took another careful puff on his cigarette before wordlessly passing it to Glenn.

Glenn inhaled a huge lungful of smoke and started instantly violently coughing. His tormentor/savior said nothing and continued to stare straight ahead, but Glenn saw a slight amused upturn in the corner of his mouth. The hint of a smile was somehow the most comforting thing Glen had ever seen. When he could breath again he passed the cigarette back carefully.

"My name is Glenn." His voice sounded reedy and hoarse. His first thought was to blame it on the smoke inhalation, but then he realized he hadn't used it in nearly a month. The redneck made no mention of it, he just grunted and said begrudgingly "Daryl."

Glenn watched for a while as Daryl smoked, occasionally offering him another chance to suck on the damned cancer stick. Glenn took it every time, taking the tiniest little puffs and being careful not to take any into his lungs before gingerly passing the thing back. After about five minutes he could no longer handle the silence. He toyed briefly with the idea of trying to engage Daryl in small talk in the hopes of developing some sort of rapport before he tried to weasel his way into the man's protection, but decided after a moment that Daryl didn't seem the type to play games and he should just go for broke.

"When you leave here, can I come with you?" Daryl glanced at him for a second, then gave him a cursory nod. Glenn glanced hesitantly over to where Merle was sleeping, but Daryl gave a chuckle that had him swiveling his head back.

"Don't worry about him, I can handle it. We'll leave first thing tomorrow."

"So where are we headed?" Glenn asked, unconcerned about the actual destination now that he had real breathing people with him. Daryl kept staring silently out the sliver of visible window until Glenn decided he wasn't going to get an answer. He settled in a little closer to Daryl, not touching yet but close enough that Glenn could feel the warmth radiating from him. Daryl grunted but didn't move.

"South." It was more of an answer than Glenn had expected but he watched hopefully anyway waiting for more. Daryl turned and gave him a long look before going on. "Been gettin' some chatter on the CB. Group of folks say they're camped just south a' town."

Daryl turned back to the window and took another long pull of his cigarette. Glenn's mind, relaxed and heavy as it hadn't been for days, was vaguely telling him he should be asking questions about this so-called survivor camp, but Glenn overruled it. He was much too comfortable to be thinking about weighty things like survival statistics. He didn't even notice his head slowly easing it's way down to Daryl's muscular shoulder as he drifted off to sleep.

AN2: I was hesitant to post here because the stuff I have read is all so good and thoughtful, and my style tends to be fairly flippant which is possibly inappropriate for such a dark subject matter as the end of the world. Please let me know what you think and how I can improve!


	2. On the Road

**Safe**

Chapter 2

**AN:** This was originally meant to be a one shot, but after I finished the last chapter I got to thinking about how awkward the next morning would be. So now this story has a plot and will get at least a few more chapters :)

Merle had put up very little fight when Daryl informed him matter-of-factly that Glenn was going to be traveling with them. He'd grunted and taken a swig of the whiskey Glenn had led them to, and said "he can come. But he's gonna haf'ta ride bitch." Glenn had shot a questioning look at Daryl, but his back was turned as he loaded Glenn's duffel bags in the back of the truck. Glenn decided that what ever riding bitch meant, it was better than staying here. Probably.

With the addition of Glenn's supplies and a good sized chunk of the liquor store's inventory of cheap, white trash booze, the bed of Daryl's pickup was too full for someone to even stand in. Bitch, as it turned out, just meant that Glenn had to sit in the center on the single long bench seat up front. Most days the idea of riding pressed cheek to cheek with not one but two scary rednecks would have made him uncomfortable to say the least, but considering the possibilities that had been running through his mind all morning since Merle had said it, Glenn was actually relieved and a little grateful. The cab was a tight squeeze for three, a fact which was not helped by Merle's need to attempt to sprawl out as best he could, but Glenn had fairly slim hips and by keeping his arms crossed in front of him he was able to minimize what would undoubtedly be considered unwelcome body contact.

There were two things, Glenn decided, that could adequately describe Merle Dixon. The first was annoying, attention whoring asshole. He fidgeted constantly, complained loudly in a voice a good two decibels above what would have been comfortable in the confined truck cab, and saying all manner of incendiary things to Glenn, ranging from improbable ethnic slurs to implying that his mother had an affinity for fellating dock workers and recently ashore sailors. Glenn was ordinarily the type not to take any shit off of ignorant fuckers like Merle, but decided that in this situation his best option was to stare straight ahead and try like hell to pretend that Merle wasn't there. The last thing he wanted to do was offend Daryl and find his ass on the side of the road weaponless with no supplies.

The second thing, fortunately, was that Merle was easily bored. After an hour or so with no response from Glenn and no agreement from Daryl, his stream of invective started to die down until finally he sat silent and brooding staring out the passenger side window. Pretty soon after that he fell asleep.

Glenn suspected that the reason Merle hadn't pitched a fit about bring him along was because he had hoped to get a reaction or some conversation out of _somebody_. The one thing that adequately described Daryl was taciturn. He almost never spoke and when he did it was either a grunt or a terse answer to a direct question. He just stared at the road, right hand on the steering wheel, left dangling out the open window. Pre-zombie apocalypse Glenn would have been highly miffed at this. In his world of fast talking pizza boys and petty crooks, you didn't trust someone who was too quiet. Made you think they might have something to hide. Survivor Glenn on the other hand found it oddly comforting. Glenn himself was a nervous chatterer. Daryl's silence conveyed the message that he didn't need to talk things out. He knew exactly what the fuck he was doing.

"Fuck" Glenn was startled at the unprovoked profanity and glanced over at Daryl who was wadding up an empty cigarette box and tossing it out the window. He reached instantly for the backpack at his feet.

"Here I might have some." Glenn tended to take his backpack everywhere, making it a dumping ground of all the crap his friends didn't want to carry.

He found a squished box of Camels in the front pocket under a box of matches and a Taylor Swift CD. He lit two of them and handed one to Daryl, puffing carefully on the other as he contemplated the CD.

"You mind if I?" He gestured vaguely toward the CD player in the dashboard.

Daryl glanced at the CD with a raised eyebrow but said "Knock yourself out."

"Girlfriend" Glenn explained as he unwrapped the plastic off of it. He had never gotten a chance to give it to her. He hoped Kelsey and her brother had made it home and were completely walled up in their parents giant colonial mansion. Wouldn't do to dwell on it though, he pushed those thoughts aside as he hit play.

He'd never minded Taylor Swift, but right now, it was awful. The lyrics were trite, her voice grating, the background music just worthless noise. He tried skipping though to find something tolerable, but it was all the same. Pointless. Not to mention love songs were especially depressing given the fact that as far as he could tell, the end of the world was a total sausage fest. He jammed the eject button with more force than necessary and tossed the CD back into his pack without even putting it in the box.

"Glove-box" Glenn glanced up at Daryl, who was becoming down right talkative. He reached for the catch on the glove-box.

There was a small case inside full of CDs. All of them were country and rock and roll, none of that girly shit. Taking a moment to decide, Glen popped in a medley with stuff from a lot of his favorite country artists.

Terrible. This shit was supposed to be inspirational? All their problems were stupid, their triumphs and romances inconsequential. The lyrics were lousy and the twangy voices were drivin him nuts. Glenn tried several of them hoping for better results. Country was clearly out. He skimmed through most of the rock albums, dismissing them almost as soon as he registered them, and settled for an early Megadeath CD. If there ever was an appropriate sountrack for the way life had gone to hell, surely it was hard core heavy metal.

He got less than half way through High Speed Dirt before he hit stop again. Stupid Stupid Stupid. It was impossible to listen to how bad ass someone was when that same someone was more likely than not Zombie food.

Glenn listened to the static of the radio for a moment before snapping the whole thing off with a huff. Daryl chortled next to him.

"I can't handle any of that hackneyed shit anymore either." Glenn burst out laughing. Daryl gave his little half smile and kept driving.

* * *

><p>Around noon they came upon a seemingly deserted parking lot half filled with cars. Merle snapped awake when Daryl stopped the car. Daryl went around to the back and pulled out two red gasoline cans and a pair of tubes. He handed one to Merle and one to Glenn.<p>

"See what ya'll can get. I need ta go take a leak." Crossbow on his shoulder, Daryl disappeared into the trees.

Glenn and Daryl sized each other up for a moment, then Merle took his can and went to the far side of the parking lot, banging the end of his shot gun on the cars so any zombies would show themselves. Glenn took his own can and went to the opposite side.

Several of the cars were empty, their gas tanks left open as a sign that other survivors had been by here. It was the first he'd seen that he and the Dixon's weren't alone in the world and he gave a short whoop of joy. Merle glanced up from across the parking lot, but apparently decided it wasn't worth mentioning.

Parked next to the wooden post that held the sign for the store, way down at the end of row six, Glenn found an Escalade with an almost full tank. He set to work, watching as his can slowly filled.

Halfway through he thought he heard a sound, but when he swung around there was nothing. He carefully surveyed the surrounding area. Nothing anywhere around. He turned back to watch the gas trickle into the can.

Another sound, indistinguishable. Probably nothing. The can was full now so Glenn went to screw on the cap. He heard a soft _thunk _ sound and felt a definite breeze past his back. He spun around to see a geek, pinned to the post less than a yard away with an arrow through his head. Glenn started to hyperventilate. He did a 360 turn, looking for more walkers, but all he saw was an irked looking Daryl making his way over to him. Glenn instantly calmed down. Daryl retrieved his arrow and put it in a special pocket of his quiver, away from the other arrows. It was all Glenn could do not to grab him into a bear hug.

"You done?" Glenn nodded. Daryl turned toward the truck. "Merle, get your ass back here. It's time to go."

Merle sauntered over, his own gas can full and sealed. "I'm gonna ride the bike for a bit lil' brother. Give you and your pet here some alone time."

"No you fuckin' ain't." Glenn tried to make himself invisible as he avidly watched the brothers' back and forth. Merle glared the both of them.

"The hell you think you are? I need me some fresh air. No good being cooped up too long. We got gas now, I'm taking the bike."

Daryl loaded the gas cans into the bed in the truck as if he was not at all scared that he had just pissed off and crazy redneck. "We're too close to the city. The bike's too loud. The people at the survivor camp aren't goin' to take to kindly to us bringing every walker in a ten mile radius to their door. 'Sides, the bike's boxed in by all our other shit. It'd take an hour just to unload the damn thing."

Merle continued to glare at Daryl, but made no other argument as he climbed into the passenger side of the cab. Glenn's respect for Daryl went up threefold.

Merle stayed awake the rest of the afternoon, but he was far less unpleasant than he had been that morning. He didn't insult Glenn other than to mutter "faggot" under his breath when Glenn pulled a summer sausage out of his sack, but anything else he was going to say was stymied by Glenn cutting a chunk off with his Swiss Army knife and handing it to him. After that he was nearly pleasant. He spent most of remainder of the trip telling them surprisingly hilarious stories from his time in the army, and later, prison. He still used a plethora of increasingly offensive ethnic slurs (and he always gave Glenn a sideways glance when he was referring to an asian), but the mood in the car was almost jovial. Glenn laughed at some of the crazier stories, and Daryl was smiling more often than not, though Glenn had no doubt he had heard them all before. They passed the afternoon and early evening with relative ease.

The camp was at once a disappointment and a relief. Relief because there were people there. All kinds of people, men, women, a few children, no rednecks. Disappointment because they really weren't any better off than he and the Dixons. There were no buildings unless you counted the ancient RV, no military, no organization. Only five of the people were visibly armed, he suspected because they had very few weapons to begin with.

The whole camp watched warily as the pickup pulled up. A big guy with a police academy T-shirt on approached them cautiously, both hands clutched around his massive shotgun. Glenn saw his grip tighten as Merle climbed out, but he seemed to relax when Glenn followed him. Glenn felt a little offended at that.

"Welcome" His tone didn't sound too welcoming, but he wasn't telling them to fuck off so Glenn decided to let it slide. If there was one thing Glenn was good at it was getting people to like him.

"Hi. I'm Glenn, this is Daryl" Daryl nodded "and his brother Merle." Merle just stood there like an asshole. "They saved me from the Liquor Depot over in Mableton." Glenn injected as much awe and gratitude into the words as he could.

It did the trick. Mr. Cop softened his grip on the shot gun noticeably, Daryl and Merle going from potential troublemakers to selfless, heroic survivors like himself. Glenn had no doubt Merle would shatter those illusions pretty quickly, but hopefully by then he and Daryl would be entrenched enough that they wouldn't be able to just kick them all out.

The others in the camp started to slowly come forward to inspect them. When it became obvious that the Dixon's weren't in the mood for casual conversation, the group swarmed around Glenn who happily answered all their questions in between asking about life at camp. The small swarm listened attentively to the harrowing adventures of his previous two months and his daring rescue by the Dixons. The story he told may have been slightly embellished from the truth, but he doubted Daryl would bother to call him on it if he ever found out. He chattered until his throat was dry and he desperately had to pee.

When Glenn emerged from the woods a few minutes later, he stood indecisive for a moment. To his left was the bulk of the group, clustered around low campfires and talking softly amongst themselves. He could see a spot at one of them where he would fit, he recognized most of the group sitting there. On his right Daryl sat stoic, carefully burning the zombie blood off of the arrow he had used to save Glenn's life earlier. Merle sat beside him, nursing a half empty bottle of Jim Beam. Glenn made a half step toward them, when he heard one of the women call his name.

"Glenn! Over here I saved you a spot!" With a last look, Glenn went over to sit next to Amy. She instantly tucked her arm through his elbow.

"So Glenn, tell us about the first time you had sex."

"AMY!" Andrea gave her sister a playful shove as Glenn turned fire engine red.

"I don't. . . I'm not-"

"You don't have to answer that son." The old man (Glenn has already forgotten his name) patted his back firmly before turning back to the can he was heating over the campfire.

"Amy was planning to be a psych major. She has this idea that if we all share really personal stories we'll gel better as a group." Chuckles all around. "She hasn't gotten anyone to answer one of her questions yet."

"It's important to form a strong sense of camaraderie. Having good bonds will make us stronger as a group." Amy looked very close to pouting.

"I think the running for our damn fool lives ought ta be plenty of bonding for anyone." Shane the cop stirred the embers.

With that the subject was closed and the topic was shifted to something less invasive. Glenn let their chatter wash over him, absorbing the sense of community that he had always taken for granted before the end of the world. Without conscious thought his eyes drifted over to where the Dixon brothers sat several yards away. Merle was gesticulating wildly now, his mouth constantly moving as he told some no doubt highly politically incorrect story. Daryl had a little half smile as he focused on roasting an unidentifiable hunk of meat over the flame of their small camp stove.

Glenn turned back to his own campfire. He wouldn't be welcome over there now. Amy smiled and scooted a little closer to him under the pretense of stealing a bite of his beans as T-Dog began to regale them with a funny story about 'crazy asshole' he used to know. Glenn glanced toward Daryl one more time and felt a sudden yearning for that quiet stillness.


	3. The Quarry

**SAFE**

Chapter 3

Glenn was having trouble sleeping again. It had been more than a month since the Dixons had swooped in to his rescue like a couple of racist, smelly, foul-tempered guardian angels. Some nights he managed to sleep like the dead, (well, better than the dead he supposed)- others (like tonight) he became restless and irritable over the smallest things. Tonight it was his tent-mate, who would not stop moving.

The kid wasn't half bad really, a fifteen year old named Laurence who insisted in being called Peyton. He and Amy had both glommed onto Glenn, who at 26 was both old enough to definitely be considered a full blown grown-up, and boyish enough that they felt they could relate to him. Glenn bridged the gap between the adults and the two teens who were constantly being lumped with the younger children. Andrea was the next youngest at 28 but she tended to treat 19 year old Amy like she was 12, and the youngest after that was Daryl at 32. He probably would have had no problem with Amy and Peyton having guns and going on patrol, but then, he would advocate Carl getting a semi-automatic if he actually bothered to give a shit, so the "parents" were unlikely to take his advice seriously.

Peyton was alone at the camp like Glenn, meaning there was no-one there from his former life. His parents had been having a weekend getaway when the shit hit the fan, he'd holed himself inside and didn't make a peep for two weeks. Peyton had completely lucked out because the Morales's had stopped to barricade themselves in his house for the night before they made their final push to Atlanta. They had found him cowering in the corner of his parents' walk in closet surrounded by junk food wrappers, clutching white-knuckled to a BB gun and praying like hell. He still thanked God for the Morales's every single day. He had been thrilled when Shane had asked him that first night if Glenn could share his tent. The Dixon's had set up a tiny rustic one that looked like barely a step up from a blanket fort; Glenn doubted it would hold the both of them at once, let alone the two of them with him squeezed in between. Glenn hadn't particularly wanted to have a tent to himself after three weeks of solitude, and Peyton was generally a good roommate. He didn't snore and didn't initiate conversations in the middle of the night. He did however move around a lot. Not tossing and turning so much as moving in sync with his dreams. Usually Glenn found the soft rustling sound produced a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone, but tonight it was setting him on edge. With a huff he pulled on his tennis shoes and eased out of the tent.

Often when he couldn't sleep like this, Glenn would beeline towards the Dixon's fire and sit in companionable silence with Daryl. He wondered some times when the older man slept, it seemed he was always sitting there lit by the glow of the low embers. Glenn wasn't one to talk though, he had at least as many sleepless nights as he had restful ones. Over the previous month he and Daryl had developed something of an odd rapport built around insomnia and chain smoking.

During the day they barely knew each other, Glenn avoided the Dixons like the plague and Daryl tended to stick to his brother like glue. The Dixons kept to themselves for the most part, and they kept busy. Merle was still a racist, sexist fuck, and Daryl, while not nearly as repugnant as his brother, wasn't exactly Mr. PC himself, but they didn't go out of their way to insult to anyone who didn't approach them first and they didn't expect anything from anybody. While all the others in camp tended to wander around at a loss when they didn't have some specific task assigned to them by Shane or Dale, the Dixons didn't need direction. They were usually up before the sun, checking their traps, maintaining their equipment, butchering whatever unfortunate beasts had wandered into their snares the night before. And it wasn't just manly survival stuff either. They washed their own clothes, cooked their own food, kept their area neat and organized. From sun up until the last glow of dusk, if you sought out the Dixons they were doing something. Glenn had even seen Daryl giving Merle what could only be described as a prison style tattoo once. He had toyed with the idea of asking Daryl to give him one too, (he wasn't sure what but he knew he would be able to think of something) but he was worried that mentioning Daytime Daryl might harm the delicate balance of their night time interaction.

Nighttime Daryl was a different animal entirely. When it got dark the brothers would retreat to their own fire to sit and relax. Merle drank more often than not, sometimes quietly sometimes talking Daryl's ear off about something or other, and usually retired to the tent a few hours later. Daryl would remain there, sitting up most of the night. Just silently watching the fire. Glenn suspected that some of this time he slept sitting up, but the illusion of vigilance was enough to make him feel better on nights when sleep just wouldn't come. At some point he had started joining Daryl on those bad nights. At first he just sat by the fire and tried to keep his breathing as quiet as possible so he didn't disturb the other man, but over time Daryl had warmed up to him enough that one night in five they actually exchanged a handful of words.

Tonight though, Daryl wasn't sitting by his little fire. Glenn would be kidding himself if he thought his current unease was anything but a direct result of that. There had been a fight earlier, a big one, between the Dixons. No one knew what it was about, but Merle had been shouting and Daryl had looked angry. Eventually Merle had taken off on his motorcycle and Daryl had grabbed his crossbow and headed off toward the woods. Glenn had tried to stop him, cautiously because it was still late afternoon. Daryl had paused as he approached, but just said "Back in a few days. If Merle starts to cause trouble just try and give him something to do. He respects you more 'n the rest of them." Then he'd disappeared into the undergrowth.

Merle was back now, had roared back into camp a few hours after sunset drunk as a skunk and passed out without even turning his motorcycle off. Glenn had taken care of that for him and had even warned Dale who was on watch at the time to keep an eye on him, so he didn't wander off into the woods to take a piss and get himself killed.

For a moment after leaving his tent Glenn considered going to sit by Daryl's cold fire pit, but that smacked of pining, so instead he climbed on top of the RV and sat in the deck chair next to Andrea who was the current night guard.

Andrea smiled and passed him a piece of jerky.

"Anxious about the group scavenge?"

Glenn gave her a wry smile as he gnawed on the end of his snack. "A little, it's hard to make an effective plan when you have four unpredictable variables."

Andrea chuckled and took a swig from her canteen. "Well don't worry about predictable little me. I promise to do exactly what you tell me. I have no intention of becoming some walkers dinner."

They talked for a few minutes about the goings on in camp and the rumors they'd heard. The conversation trailed off into a comfortable silence and Glenn found himself idly wondering if Andrea would be interested in starting something up. Other than Shane whose understanding with Lori was the worst kept secret in camp, and T-Dog who was constantly flirting with Mrs. Morales's sister April, Glenn was the only one anywhere near her age that wasn't married or completely repulsive. Well or Daryl, Glenn conceded that he could have some serious competition there, though Glenn possibly had an edge because he knew Andrea's name. His eyes drifted toward the dark circle of stones near Merle's tent, again wondering if Daryl was okay and when he would be back. Andrea misinterpreted the worried look on his face.

"He's a bit of a loose cannon isn't he. I wish his brother would get back, I hate to think what Merle could get up to without Daryl around to keep him in check."

"hmm." Glenn gave a non-committal murmur, still watching the Dixon campsite. "Daryl said to keep him busy. Maybe we should take him when we go into town. He'd be useful, and it's not like he would cause trouble when it could get us all killed." He turned to look at Andrea.

She didn't look thrilled. "I guess. . . I suppose I would rather have him busy with us than bored here with Amy."

Glenn chuckled at Andrea's dark look. Merle wasn't _dangerous_, just dumb and ill-mannered. "Amy can take care of herself, I'm more worried about what Shane and Merle would do if there were no one here to keep them from noticing each other." Andrea laughed and agreed.

"What were they fighting about? Daryl and Merle?"

"How the hell would I know?"

Andrea gave him a puzzled look. "I thought you and Daryl were pretty tight? You guys are hanging out together for hours at least twice a week. You know, Jim tried to go sit with him for a while that one night last week when you were late getting back. Daryl swore at him so loudly that he had to apologize to Sara Morales because her kids heard it clear across camp."

Glenn remembered that night. He had been stuck in a drugstore for nearly an hour waiting for a huge group of walkers to shamble past. He'd used his time wisely though, carefully packing his big duffel so he could fit twice as much of that feminine stuff all the women swore was an absolute necessity and still cram in two cartons of Marlboros for Daryl. Daryl had been in a good mood when Glenn had finally taken his place by the fire, lighting cigarettes for the two of them and mentioning offhandedly that Marlboro had always been his brand, though Merle preferred Winstons so that was what they usually had. (Glenn had silently vowed to never bring back Winstons again.) It made Glenn feel warmth bubbling up inside to think that Daryl might have been worried about him. Maybe they really were becoming friends.

"There was a bit of a pool for a while over whether or not you would be able to turn him, but Lori put a stop to it. Said it was rude to speculate."

Now it was Glenn's turn to look confused. "Turn him to what?"

Andrea blushed scarlet, realizing she had said too much. "Nothing, forget I mentioned it."

Glenn just stared at her until she cracked.

"Make him go gay. I'm sorry, I know that's so narrow-minded of us. Just because you're gay doesn't mean your only interest in him is sexual. It's just, you're always staring at him and we all thought it was kind of sad and then someone pointed out that there aren't exactly a ton of cute little blonde farmer's daughters around for him to pick up and, well, what if? Not that I don't think you could if you put your mind to it."

"Wait wait wait. You think I'm gay?" So much for a competitive edge.

"Well aren't you?" Glenn really didn't know what to say to that. Luckily he didn't have to say anything. Andrea grimaced and turned away. "I'm sorry, I just keep putting my foot in it. Can we pretend this conversation didn't happen? Let's go back to the part about taking Merle on the supply run."

"Okay. But for the record, I'm not. And I like to hang out with Daryl because he's surprisingly good company."

"I know, I'm sorry. Amy will be thrilled."

Glenn decided that didn't bear thinking about. He settled back into his seat and watched as the sun started to come up, already mentally working around adding Merle as a variable in his many evade and escape plans for the coming day.

* * *

><p>It was a dejected group that huddled around the low campfire four insane, blood filled days later. Their group of nearly thirty cut down to just eleven. Peyton had been among those killed in the Zombie attack, and Glenn had nearly cried when they tries to burn his body with the geeks. Now that the relief they had all felt when they were safe at the CDC was gone, the sorrow and pain of the last few days had caught up with them. Carol had taken the children safely to bed and everyone else was content to sit gloomily staring into the fire and contemplate all they had lost, not speaking. They were falling apart little by little and there was only one thing Glenn could think of to do about it. To make them stronger as a community.<p>

"Her name was Roxanne, Roxanne McCoy." Everyone around the campfire swiveled to look at him and he met a ring of confused faces. He blushed a bit but soldiered on. "I met her at a freshman mixer when I was in college. We dated for about four months before I lost my virginity to her."

Dawning comprehension, everyone in the circle continued to look at him expectantly.

"She had curly red hair, and tons of freckles. We kept dating until I dropped out sophomore year, she transferred to some school in Mississippi after that to be near her family. I didn't find anyone who liked me enough again for four years." Glenn ducked his head down to hide his face, hoping someone would say something. Dale came to his rescue.

"Laurel. Never did ask her last name, heck, Laurel probably wasn't her real first name. It was the summer of '69, I was a twenty two year old kid about three days away from being shipped out to Vietnam. She was driving to New York from Florida for Woodstock and asked if she could park her van for the night in my driveway. She was flat as a board and had a face like a mud fence, but I figured I'd probably be dead sooner rather than later so, why not?" Dale shrugged and Glenn thought he could see just the slightest tinge of a pink on the old man's face.

No one really wanted to follow that, so it was a good five minutes before Lori sighed and began to tell her own story. "Mine isn't nearly so exciting, Rick and I had been dating almost since we were freshmen, and on Prom night he just looked so handsome in his Daddy's suit, and I felt like a fairy-tale princess, and I said to myself Lori-girl, nights just don't get to be any more magic than this. Rick was so sweet about it too, I would have done it in the back of his Mom's Volkswagen, but he said it had to be special and he got us a room at the Thunderbird Inn."

Rick was the one who blushed this time, but he quickly diverted attention from himself by turning to look at Shane. Shane scowled and folded his arms more tightly in front of himself, clearly in no mood for sharing. Just when the silence was starting to get awkward, T-Dog came to the rescue with his own story.

"Alicia Jones. I was seventeen and Alicia was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. I don't mean girl next door pretty or prom queen pretty, I mean full-on, girls hold on to your boyfriends, movie star beautiful. I joined the drama club just to get near her, I took her out to dinner every night after practice for two full weeks before I got up the nerve to kiss her. She told me after that she hadn't realized we were dating til then. A month later she got cast in a commercial and her mom decided to move her and her brother out to LA to help her acting career. We slept together the first and only time the night before she left."

Lori gave a little 'aww' at that, and Glenn thought they were probably done with the sharing for the night. But then, unexpectedly, Andrea shifted. She unfolded her legs and moved a little closer to the fire, and she uttered the first words she had since they had left the CDC all those hours before.

"Steven Foster, and it was our wedding night." The whole circle watched in rapt attention waiting for more. Glenn even thought he saw Daryl sit up a bit straighter. "We met in college and got married less than a week after graduation. He had these wire rimmed glasses and big blue eyes." Andrea stared unblinkingly into the fire, as if she had forgotten everyone else was there, waiting to hear more.

After a beat Dale was the first to ask what everyone was dying to. "Is it possible he. . . could he be somewhere?"

Andrea jerked back as if slapped and settled back into her protected cannonball position from earlier, tucking her knees up under her chin. "No. He died in a car accident two years ago. Drunk driver. Funny, this is the first time I've even thought about him since the end of the world, but I used to think of him every single day."

It was a morose end to the conversation, but Glenn would be lying if he said it hadn't helped him feel closer to his fellow travelers. He made a move to return to the RV, he had the early morning watch shift, when that soft, smooth voice had him dropping back into his seat so hard he worried he might have broken something.

"Beau Tucker. In the back of his daddy's pickup when we 'er sixteen."

Everyone gaped at him. Andrea finally asked hesitantly "Did Merle know?"

Daryl sneered and folded his arms in a defensive manner, closing himself off again. "Fuck no. You think I'm some kinda idiot?" After a moment he sighed and loosened his arms a bit. "I think he may have suspected. Sometimes he would pick fights and sorta imply things. We had one the last time I saw him. I'm sure most of you noticed."

There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence, everyone watching unsure what to say. Glenn's eyes were glued to Daryl's face as he tried to process what he had just heard. Then Shane straightened, and bit out "Vivian Thibodeaux."

Rick guffawed, tension broken. "You mean Big Easy?"

Lori elbowed her husband hard in the side before turning to Shane with a questioning look. "When was this? I can't believe she never told me."

Shane pointedly stirred the fire avoiding Rick's gaze. "It was the Wednesday before Senior Prom. Rick was bragging to me up and down about how he'd been savin' up to get the two of you a room in a nice motel, and damned if I was going to let him lose his before I lost mine."

This earned Rick another hard elbow, which he responded to by shifting away as much as the log he was sitting on would allow. "What about Sheila Haywood? You told me you lost it to her when we were in tenth grade."

"And the fact that you were willing to believe that crock of bullshit is the reason we been friends for so long. Sheila was a senior man, she wouldn't have touched me with a ten foot pole."

Laughter all around. The funerary mood lifted, everyone started to chatter and gossip like it was just an ordinary camping trip. Glenn tuned it out. He stared across the fire at Daryl as things started to snap into place. And he kept staring, even when Daryl caught him and held his gaze.

**AN**: I had a hell of a time with this one, I tend to get a bit bogged down in the details and this one was a super long account of the first season. I hope y'all don't mind that I cut the actual season out, but I figured we all know what happened, and there are so many good fics already that cover it. Please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism more than welcome, I know my writing has some issues :P


	4. Alongside I85

**Safe**

**AN:** Thank you so much to all my reviewers, whenever I get one it makes my whole day :)**  
><strong>

Chapter 4

Try as he might, Glenn couldn't get Daryl's revelation out of his head. He felt a deep seated need to talk to the older man about it, but Daryl sat up at the campfire with Andrea and Dale all night, and the next morning when Glenn approached the pickup intent on riding shotgun, he found it stripped clean, the bed empty, as Daryl strapped a couple of saddle bags to Merle's bike and ignored Shane's protests about the modified hog being too damn loud. When everything was secured to his satisfaction Daryl hopped on it and took off without a word, leaving Glenn to scramble into the last available seat in the RV.

They stopped mid-morning to stretch their legs and let the camper's overtaxed radiator cool down a bit. Daryl lowered the kickstand on his bike and wandered off into the woods alone. Without letting himself over think it, Glenn followed. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, or even what his ultimate goal was, but he just had to talk to that big gay redneck.

Glenn lost sight of him almost immediately. He thought about calling out, but didn't want to alert any zombies to his presence. After a moment he gave up and turned back toward the barely visible road.

Daryl was in front of him a second later and Glenn was roughly shoved into a tree. Daryl wasn't really that much taller, but he seemed to loom over the younger man as he held him firmly with a forearm across the shoulders, being careful not to let their bodies touch anywhere else.

"We gonna have a problem?" Glenn frantically shook his head wondering what Daryl was talking about.

"You been staring at me funny since the fire last night. If you got a problem with me and my sex life, you can go right ahead and keep it to yourself. Because I don't give a fuck."

Oh. Whoops. Daryl let him go and turned back towards the street. Glenn reached for him, scrambling to explain himself. Daryl spun around as Glenn managed to snag a hold of his arm. "Wait wait, you've got the wrong idea. I'm fine with that, more than fine."

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Glenn to explain.

"We get along pretty well right?" He waited a beat for Daryl to confirm that, but got absolutely zero reaction. "And now neither one of us has any kind of prospects, and we aren't likely to be getting any. I just. . . I've been thinking about it since last night, and I don't think I would mind . . . you know, doing. . .that, with someone like you."

Glenn couldn't honestly say the fist slamming into his face was a complete surprise.

* * *

><p>Glenn got some looks but no comments as he emerged from the woods ten minutes later sporting the start of an impressive black eye. He claimed the passenger seat in the RV for this leg of the trip before Shane could take his usual place there. The last thing he needed was to be in the back with Andrea and her overdeveloped sense of worry.<p>

He realized his error almost immediately when they started moving again and he was treated to an unobstructed view of Daryl's muscled back. Not at all conducive to insuring he not think about what an ass he had made out of himself. Neither of us have any prospects? Really? No wonder he had gone through a four year drought before Kelsey had taken pity on him. Glenn kind of wanted to punch his own face. Why had he said something so unbelievably stupid? Why had he propositioned Daryl at all? It was true the stray thought had crossed his mind a few times the night before that it might not be so bad, but that certainly hadn't been his intention when he followed Daryl out into the woods. Well, he didn't think it had anyway. He really wasn't gay.

But as the scenery whizzed by and Glenn's gaze kept being drawn back to the lone biker in front of him, Glenn wondered if that was a hundred percent accurate. Glenn had kind of liked it when Daryl pushed him against that tree. He'd been scared, but at the same time he had felt an absolute certainty that as long as Daryl was nearby, nothing bad could possibly happen to him. And he'd smelled _so good_. Like trees and rain and _sex_. Far better than any man who was as unwashed as Daryl had any right to smell. Glenn had to wait in the woods after Daryl had left for the small bulge in his jeans to go down. At the time he had attributed it to adrenaline.

Couldn't blame adrenaline now. Glenn shifted subtly in his seat and hoped that Dale hadn't noticed his predicament. It shouldn't be sexy. Daryl was sweaty and filthy, unshaven. There was nothing feminine about the way his corded muscles bulged, accentuated somehow by that stupid, cut-off shirt. Glenn could see the very edge of his tattoo there and wondered what it was. A demon to go with the one on his bicep? An angel? Would Daryl ever show him? Did he have any more hidden tattoos?

Whoa slow down. Glenn deliberately turned so his torso was facing Dale and through sheer force of will managed to not think about Daryl and what may or may not be under his clothes for the next few hours.

He didn't think of Daryl, but the subject of his potentially curved sexuality came up again not two hours later, at the worst possible time while he was being shoved underneath a semi truck by Shane. For a half second he had slipped and thought about how he sort of wished it was Daryl under the truck with him, when his traitorous mind pointed out that Shane was also a rather fit specimen. If the apocalypse really had relaxed his preferences, maybe he should test them? He gave Shane a sidelong glance. He was a fairly good looking man, but Glenn didn't find him particularly appealing.

Glenn leaned in just a little closer and gave a tentative sniff. Ick. He smelled decidedly of rank man funk. Relief washed over Glenn. Maybe the thing with Daryl was a one time anomaly. Glenn would apologize and everything could go back to normal. Just to be sure he leaned in and sniffed again. This time when he backed off Shane was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Thankfully, before Glenn could say something that further incriminated or embarrassed him, they were both distracted by the approaching horror of a swarm of rotted, shambling feet dragging past their faces.

When they crawled out from under the truck, who knows how long after, he tried to stammer out some sort of explanation, but Shane brushed it off.

"I don't want or need to know, but if-" Shane was cut off by Sofia's scream, and Glenn forgot his embarrassment for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

><p>Daryl searched for Sofia all afternoon and into the evening, so Glenn didn't get a chance to apologize. Rather than join the group around the single small fire as he had the night before, Daryl had climbed up onto the RV with Merle's hunting rifle and continuously scanned the surrounding trees with the night vision scope. After a tense hour Glenn made his excuses and headed towards the RV to talk to him. He'd covered about half the distance when Rick stopped him.<p>

"I think we both know who it is gave you that shiner. Now, it ain't my place to be your keeper, but if Daryl attacked you I think I need to know about it. If you think he's getting dangerous you need to tell me."

Glenn glanced over to where Daryl was completely focused on checking something on the rifle. "No. He punched me, but I really fucking deserved it."

Rick looked like he wanted to ask about it, but after a moment he just patted Glenn's shoulder and gave him a wry smile. "Okay, but you tell me if he gives you any trouble."

Glenn nodded and Rick went back to sit with Lori and Carl. Glenn climbed the ladder to the roof of the camper as quietly as he could, but Daryl was waiting for him, staring at the top of the ladder while he ran his fingers over the stock bare inches from the trigger.

"You did deserve it."

Glenn nodded. "I did, and I'm sorry."

Daryl nodded back, "well, that's okay then." He offered Glenn his cigarette and got a fresh one from the pack in his front pocket. Glenn sat on the roof next to him, silently puffing and trying his best to both look cool and not inhale as usual, and started to relax. Maybe that was it. Maybe everything really was fine now. Then Daryl had to ruin it by leaning over him to grab a bottle of water from the small bucket nearby and Glenn got another whiff of that earthy, delicious _smell._

He managed to get through the evening without alienating Daryl, managed to get to his chosen sleeping spot in the back of an abandoned conversion van nearby without humiliating himself. But it was the memory of that smell that kept him company as he slid his hand down the front of his jeans for the first time since Z-day. So much for back to normal.

* * *

><p><strong>AN2<strong>: Does anyone know what that tattoo is supposed to be? I know Norman Reedus has a demon on his bicep and his own name on his chest, but I don't think he has one on his back. In my second favorite Norman Reedus movie Dark Harbor (after Boondock Saints, but before Boondock Saints 2) he has two angels tattooed on his back over his right shoulder, but I paused at the scene in season 1 episode 3 where you can kind of see his tattoo and I don't think it's the same thing. Anyway, please review and let me know what you think! Reviews make me all warm inside :) even the ones with constructive criticism

**AN3**: Anyone thinking of watching Dark Harbor now that you know Norman Reedus is half naked in it, let me sweeten the pot by saying it's a young Norman Reedus, and it also stars Alan Rickman :D. Let me know if any of you watch it and like it, because I loved it, and I know exactly one other person who has ever even seen it :)


	5. In the Woods

**Safe**

Chapter 5

**AN:** Okay let's do something crazy! I've decided it might be a fun (stupid, way too ambitious) challenge to weave this story into my other WD story Girl Child which is Sofia POV but also centered around what a BAMF Daryl is. My goal is to write the stories concurrently, having them address the same time period from both points of view (Sofia and Glenn) without making them repetitive or dependent on each other. Hopefully this story will still be completely readable and understandable without the other, and vice versa. There will be a little of Sofia in this story, and probably a hint of implied GxD in that one, though a very tame hint. The first chapter of Girl Child takes place the day after the end of this chapter if any of ya'll are interested, but if not, just ignore it because it shouldn't affect your enjoyment of this fic. :-D

Glenn didn't sleep much, but it wasn't because he was afraid or restless. He spent the majority of the night plotting his next move. It was clear that frankly stating his intentions was out (he gingerly poked his still tender eye and hissed), which was unfortunate because for the most part that was his one and only move. (It was kind of a miracle, he decided, that he had _ever_ gotten any.)

He spent a good long while weighing the merits of making himself appear vulnerable to kick-start Daryl's heretofore theoretical protective instincts, but eventually decided that Daryl knew him far too well and would just be annoyed if Glenn pretended to need his help with things Daryl knew he was capable of. He also considered and discarded trying to woo someone else in order to make Daryl jealous (too much potential for hurt feelings if Andrea or T-Dog actually fell for him) and just climbing naked into Daryl's tent late at night (too much potential for bodily harm in sensitive places).

Eventually he decided his best bet was to drive the gayer man absolutely wild with animal lust in the hopes that he would revisit the issue. Easier said than done. Glenn had no idea what gay guys found attractive about other guys. Would his own slim body be an asset? Or did guys prefer other guys to be big and manly like a lot of girls did? Would Daryl find his lack of chest hair off-putting? He decided there was only one way to find out. Daryl usually took the early morning watch while whoever had taken the midnight to dawn watch tried to get in a few hours before they got on their way. His vantage point from the top of the RV would give him a perfect view of the back of Glenn's sleeping van.

Glenn slept fully clothed down to his hi-tops every night as a precautionary measure. He hoped that Daryl hadn't noticed that as he stripped down to his boxers, waffling for a second before he pulled his shoes back on over his bare feet. Glenn wished that his original zombie plan had accounted for the possibility of him getting laid ever again, because if it had he would have packed his silky, black "seduction underwear." As it was he only had two pairs of boxers to his name, one dingy and far too big, the other faded and full of holes. Luckily it was the oversized ones he was wearing now. He wanted to titillate the man, not flash him.

Glenn spent a good fifteen minutes mentally preparing himself before he opened the back door of the van. He backed out onto the asphalt as gracefully as he could and then while facing the car, stretched both his hands high above his head, arching his back and swaying a little side to side. Then he reached down and grabbed his toes, sticking his pert little derriere out and hoping that the baggy boxers were taut enough to show it off to good advantage. He then weighed his options and decided to go for broke, turning slightly to the side and doing a couple of lunges. Surely that had to be sufficient, he threw what he hoped was a coy look over his shoulder and froze.

Shane was watching him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly troubled look from Daryl's seat on the top of the RV. Glenn gave him a weak little wave as he felt his entire body turn scarlet and slowly turned back to the van, only to see the rest of the camp (sans Daryl, _of course_) watching him silently, some horrified, some confused and some trying like hell to contain their laughter. Glenn dove back into the van and buried himself in his sleeping bag for the next hour.

* * *

><p>Daryl, Glenn discovered when he finally emerged (fully clothed) an hour later, had left a little before dawn to try and pick up little Sofia's trail. This information made Glenn feel like a jerk for even thinking about sex while she was still missing, especially when he found out that most of the others had left to search as well shortly after his little peep show. Andrea, mercifully, didn't mention the morning's events when she brought him a stale pop-tart, just offered up the information about Daryl completely unprompted with an amused smirk on her face.<p>

Rick had suggested that they search using the buddy system. Daryl (naturally) had partnered with his crossbow, Lori had quickly pulled Rick in the opposite direction (their son tagging along), and Andrea had jumped to claim the still hiding Glenn before Shane could suggest that she and Carol work together. The poor woman's despondency was more than Andrea could take.

She stood by explaining all of this while Glenn armed himself. He laid aside his heavy crowbar in favor of a long curved knife. After a moment's hesitation, he dug in his backpack and retrieved his pistol, a girly little Elektra 9mm with a pearly pink grip. Andrea smirked when she saw it.

"There wasn't exactly a ton of selection. The store was stripped down to this and a couple of BB guns."

"No, I like it. May I see?" Glenn begrudgingly offered it up, and Andrea gave it a very intent once over as if she actually knew something about guns. She handed it back smirking. "Have you ever fired it?"

"No."

"Do you know how to turn off your safety?" Glenn stared at the gun in his had and realized that he hadn't even considered that it might have a safety. He handed it back to her and she flicked a little switch near the grip. "Red dot means the safety is off."

Glenn blushed and took the gun back, flipping the switch back and forth a few times to get a feel for it. He tucked it back into his front jeans pocket and they started off to the North East, between, Andrea said, where Daryl was searching, and where Shane had led Carol.

Glenn liked Andrea. He had found in her an easy friend where many of the others found a prickly tough-gal. Maybe it was because Glenn was for the most part very non-threatening, or because Amy had been so taken with him, or it could be as simple as affable, undemanding Glenn being a natural counterpoint to the know-it-all old man she spent most of her time with. For whatever reason, when Andrea wasn't hanging out with her surrogate dad and Glenn wasn't pining away after his own personal security blanket, they tended to drift together. Unfortunately, this somehow gave Andrea the idea that Glenn wouldn't mind her asking annoying questions.

"So, you and Dixon looked pretty chummy last night. Did you manage to smooth things over?" (Glenn had spilled the real story behind his black eye to Andrea when she had expressed a desire to castrate Daryl.)

"He forgave me for my massive cock-up if that's what you mean."

"I take it from this morning's performance you don't intend to leave it at that?"

Glenn felt the blush rising in his cheeks, but decided to play dumb anyway. "What about this morning? I was stretching."

"Uh huh." Glenn shrugged, giving up the pretense. Andrea might not be the most sympathetic shoulder, but he was fairly certain he could trust her to be discreet, and he needed to talk it out with _someone_.

"Maybe I should just try telling him again. I put my foot in it yesterday, this time I'll plan it out. I'll tell him he makes me feel more safe than anything else since this all started and and that I really want to try and do. . . that."

Andrea stopped short and turned to face him. "No no no no! That's the worst thing you could say. That smacks of dependency. I seriously doubt he would be enticed by you suggesting you could use sex to pay him for his continued protection."

"It wouldn't be payment! It would be a gift." Glenn felt like an absolute girl the second _that _left his mouth. Andrea didn't seem to notice.

"Look, if Daryl just wanted sex, he would have taken you up on your offer, ham-fisted and inelegant as it was. Like you said, it's not like he has a lot of other options." (Glenn scowled at her) "He was pissed before because he thinks you were propositioning him because you were too horny to care that he was a guy and you thought he would be easy. If there's one thing we've learned from all this, it's that Daryl is surprisingly romantic. I don't think he wants to start something up with him while you aren't on an equal footing. Strutting around half naked is just going to reinforce his crazy idea that you think of him as an instinct driven neanderthal that's only good for one thing."

She had a point. "So what should I do?"

"Tell him you find him very attractive. Tell him you like spending time with him and would like to do it more. Tell him you think that in time the two of you could have something special."

This all sounded far too frouffy to Glenn and he doubted very much that Daryl was the "heart to heart about our feelings" type. Still, Andrea had an excellent point about making sure Daryl knew Glenn found him attractive. Glenn would certainly be offended if he thought someone only wanted to sleep with him because they thought they couldn't do any better.

He thought about it as they continued their search and they passed a few hours in a comfortable silence. The sun was high in the sky and Glenn was thinking about suggesting they turn back when a rustle in the nearby trees had him jerking his small firearm out of his pocket. Both hands on the grip, he trained the pistol on the brush he had seen move as Andrea edged carefully toward it.

After a tense moment Daryl emerged slowly, carefully keeping his crossbow pointed at the ground. Glenn lowered his gun, though he kept both hands on it, too shaken to re-holster just yet.

"Any luck?" Andrea asked as she shoved her own gun back into her back pocket. Daryl shrugged and slung his crossbow onto his back in a practiced motion. The smooth movement brought racing to Glenn's mind his fantasy from the night before, followed instantly by a wave of awkward nervousness that had him tensing up. Could Daryl tell? Could he see what Glenn had been up to all those hours ago? In the stark light of day, the night before felt a little like a violation on his part. Glenn was nearly unaware of Andrea and Daryl discussing what they had found and where they should go from there as he thought and over-thought every possible word or action he could do at that particular moment. He had no plan for this.

It was Daryl saying his name that finally jarred Glenn into movement. Unfortunately, his first reflex was to squeeze-

*BANG*

"FUCK" Daryl was on the ground holding his foot and while Andrea frantically hovered, trying to be helpful but actually doing nothing at all. Glenn stood motionless for a moment unsure what had just happened. The gun fell from his limp hand.

Daryl pulled off his boot and the sight of blood triggered Glenn's auto-pilot. He didn't have a plan for seducing a redneck, or propositioning a man, or receiving a well deserved punch in the face, but he sure as fuck had a plan for what to do if someone was accidentally shot in the foot. He pushed Daryl's filthy hands away as he tugged off the blood caked sock, then he rinsed the whole area with his canteen. The bullet had grazed the inside edge of Daryl's left instep. It made a shallow gouge, but Glenn was fairly certain it hadn't caused any permanent damage. He poured the rest of his water over it to clean out the grit then barked to Andrea to give him hers as well, giving the wound one last splash. He pulled a bright red, thankfully clean, bandanna out of his back pocket and carefully wrapped the wound tightly enough to staunch the bleeding without making it painful. Daryl watched the whole process silently and gave Glenn a nod of thanks when he was done, before pulling his boot back on over the makeshift bandage. He climbed to his feet on his own and waved off Glenn and Andrea's offers to help.

Now that he knew he hadn't mortally wounded Daryl, Glenn was flooded with intense guilt. He started babbling apologies at a speed that would impress the most seasoned auctioneer, so upset he was nauseous.

Daryl patted him on the shoulder. "Relax. It's just a scratch." Glenn glanced up and saw that Daryl had just the tiniest hint of a smile. "It was my own fault. I saw where you had it pointed, but I wasn't worried because I didn't think you'd worked out how to turn the safety off yet."

Glenn blushed hotly as Andrea laughed, and the three slowly made their way back to the highway.

* * *

><p>Glenn decided that night as he picked at his dinner that he had to talk to Daryl sooner rather than later. When Daryl ambled off into the woods, almost imperceptibly favoring his right side, to answer the call of nature, Glenn followed behind instantly, pushing down the foreboding sense of deja vu and hoped he would find Daryl quickly this time.<p>

Instead he found Shane coming back from his perimeter check. They stood, awkwardly staring at each other for a moment while Glenn tried to think of a reasonable explanation for why he was skulking around in the woods at night. Shane spoke before he could think of something plausible.

"Glenn, I'm sorry but this is getting ridiculous. Following after me when I patrol without telling anyone where you're headed is just asking for trouble."

"I'm not-" Glenn tried to break in but Shane didn't hear him.

"I'm flattered, really, but I have absolutely no leanings in that persuasion. And even if I did, I don't think it would be a good idea. We've got such a fragile group now, the last thing any of us needs is a jealous Daryl Dixon on our hands. Now I don't know whats been going on between you two lately, and it's sure as hell none of my business, but have you tried to work it out? I'm not sayin' you should let him get away with treatin' you bad. I just think, if there's a chance, you should try to see if you can fix whatever's broke."

"I have to pee." Glenn blurted out a minute too late. Shane's eyes widened and he backed up a bit.

"Oh, sorry. As you were." He pushed past and headed back towards camp, a hair faster than usual. Glenn watched him go with some annoyance. Could things get any more uncomfortable?

He found Daryl about fifty feet into the trees, carefully tucking himself back into his blue jeans.

"I'm sorry." Daryl stilled and slowly turned around to face him.

"So you've said."

"No, not for that. I am sorry for that, but this is more a preemptive sorry for what I'm going to say now."

Daryl quirked an eyebrow and leaned back against the tree, waiting for Glenn to go on.

Glenn took a deep breath and wished for a second that he had written down all the things he had been planning to say about respect and mutual trust and how he thought they really had something, because he was drawing a blank. After an awkward moment of silence he blurted out "I fantasized about you while I was jerking off last night."

'Of all the stupid fucking-' Glenn mentally berated himself, but Daryl looked more amused than angry, so Glenn blundered on.

"I wasn't, you know, before, and I am not sure what I'm supposed to do, or if I would be any good at it. But something about you-even before the group share fest, I just. . ." Glenn trailed off.

Daryl moved in and Glenn was worried for a second that he was about to get punched again, but before he could duck away, Daryl had his chin in one big grimy hand and their mouths were pressed firmly together.

The kiss was unlike any he had ever had with his three previous girlfriends. It wasn't a sweet respectful peck, or even a heavy petting movie style kiss with tentative tongue. This kiss was _dirty_. Like _porn star_ dirty. And unbelievably hot. Daryl's tongue wasn't a shy invader, it conquered Glenn's mouth and planted a damned flag on his tonsils. Glenn felt completely enveloped by Daryl's strong arms, wrapped tightly around his waist as if Daryl thought he might vanish. Their bodies were flush together, Daryl's knee firmly between his legs at the exact right angle, grinding against his dick so hard Glenn was fairly certain he was about to humiliate himself.

The taste was just. . . and his lips were so. . . an even his stubbly chin made Glenn. . . It was completely indescribable. The kind of kiss in the bodice rippers that Kelsey had always left lying around in places where she knew Glenn would see them, hoping to give him ideas.

He understood now, why she was always bemoaning the fact that he wasn't a savage pirate lord. Daryl could "ravish" him any day. Glenn reached a hand down into Daryl's still open fly, searching for the bulge.

It was _huge._ And so _firm._ The thought struck Glenn that Daryl probably expected to put that monster _inside _ him and Glenn started to panic, going instantly soft.

Daryl immediately backed off. His breath was coming a little heavier that usual, but his eyes were clear and focused. He gave a derisive chuckle and backed up further.

"Someday, you're goin' to be hard up enough that you'll be able to go through with that. And when that day comes, I just might be horny enough to let ya. But it hasn't come yet, and I got too damn much pride to stand around here trying to convince you otherwise." Daryl spit on the ground and pushed past Glenn, striding quickly back to the camp. Glenn stared after him, equal parts humiliated and relieved.

**AN2**: Happy thanksgiving! I am especially thinkful for all my reviewers, past and future :). I'm worried that this chapter doesn't quite flow, right. I almost cut it out completely, but I like parts of it too much to not include them. I think that it fits pretty well now, but I am also pretty tired so that could be the brain fuzzies talking :) Like it? Hate it? Please review and let me know :D


	6. On a Backroad

**Safe**

Chapter 6

Eventual spoilers for the whole season eventually, but this chapter only gets us to 2x2

AN: After the season finale I scrapped the plans I had for this and started anew, if I connect this with girl child the whole thing will start being way too AU and I think what makes this work is that it fits into the show fairly well :) This chapter is still a bit short, but I wanted to post something so y'all would know I haven't been hit by a bus.

One of the most persistent (some would say most annoying) aspects of Glenn's personality was his complete and total inability to let things lie unresolved. He hadn't even begun to sort through his mire of hormone addled feelings to decide what exactly it was he wanted from Daryl, but already he had a constant niggling feeling that he had to do _something_ to set things right, whatever right might end up being. After he talked to Daryl he could set to work on the unexpectedly tangled issue of his sexuality.

Unfortunately, the morning after the heart-stopping kiss that had caused Glenn's minor meltdown, Rick had decided they should all search together woods-combing style so no one got nervous and accidentally shot someone else in the foot. He'd happily given his little pistol up when Rick had confiscated it pending a gun safety class, but as no one other than Daryl (who seemed to know _everything) _had known he had a gun in the first place, Rick didn't want to take any chances.

Daryl, for his part, hardly looked like he'd been shot at all. There was no visible limp, no slowing of his pace. The only sign of discomfort was a subtle shifting of his weight to his left leg which wouldn't be noticeable by anyone but Glenn who had long ago noted that Daryl made almost no unnecessary movements when he was in his comfort zone.

Daryl's optimism about their chances of finding Sofia alive and un-bitten had surprised Glenn. Daryl had never acknowledged that the little girl existed as far as Glenn knew. Well, he had backhanded Ed once when he'd gotten a little rough with her, but Glenn had always figured that had more to do with Daryl hating Ed's guts than caring about a nervous little kid he barely knew. It was kind of infectious, for Glenn at least, and he began to think in terms of when they found her rather than if they found her.

* * *

><p>When they got back to camp, after Lori had been taken away by that scary Xena girl and T-Dog had been medicated from Merle's stash and was resting in the back of the camper in preparation for the trip to the mystery farm, Glenn and the others started loading the many scavenged supplies into the station wagon. The water truck, sadly, had been mostly empty bottles, but they managed to fit the six full ones they found into the back section, and used what remained of the one Shane had used for his impromptu shower to top off the water tank in the RV. Dale joined them as they moved on to the large pile of things that everyone had decided they couldn't live without.<p>

They worked in silence mostly, methodically dividing the haul into stacks according to the priority of finding space for things and then painstakingly making that space by repacking and scrunching up all the necessities they already had. When it became clear that less than half the stuff was going to make the cut, the others rested and Glenn set to work carefully breaking into a sweet little hatchback someone had bothered to lock that, he argued, was a brand new model and probably got good gas mileage. Daryl leaned on the hood watching as he lit a cigarette.

"So Merle was a drug dealer?" Leave it to Dale to say what everyone thought in the most blatant way possible.

"Makes you say that?" Dale lifted an eyebrow but played along,

"That was a lot of meth"

Daryl shook his head. "Naw, Merle didn't even have that much of a problem. He just tended to stockpile shit. Our dad did too. Family trait."

Glenn involuntarily glanced over at Merle's motorcycle, still apparently full of Merle's stuff, and the small satchel that he had seen Daryl stuff with two cartons of cigarettes, three shirts (one with sleeves), four dingy balls of socks, and an extra pair of jeans. (No underwear, his traitorous mind pointed out.) Other than his crossbow, which he treated with the deference and careful handling of a bridegroom for a virgin bride, Daryl seemed to equate "stuff" with "nuisance."

"What did he do?" Dale pressed.

"Drank mostly. When he wasn't in jail."

"What about you?" Andrea this time, though she seemed genuinely curious rather than suspicious.

"I was the general manager at a bar over in Madison." Andrea's eye's widened.

"That's so, I don't know, respectable. I thought you needed to go to school for that kind of thing." Andrea seemed to realize how that sounded almost as soon as she said it. Glenn could almost see the gears of her mind scrambling to back track.

Daryl took one last pull on his cigarette before dropping it on the ground and stamping it out with his boot. "Associate's degree in business management."

Wait what? Glenn abruptly straightened and slammed his head into the frame of the newly opened door. The others were staring at Daryl who seemed to be getting agitated. He crossed his arms over his chest and took a step back.

"The hell y'all lookin' at? I ain't slow. Even a dumb hick can handle a few classes at a shitty community college." He backed up a little more and then turned and started actually walking away. "Goin' ta do another sweep for food and such." He disappeared behind an overturned semi.

Andrea sputtered for a moment, then retreated to the RV mumbling something about checking on T-Dog. Dale stared after Daryl for a while with a pensive look on his face.

Glenn almost followed. This was the first chance he'd had all day to get Daryl alone, but he hesitated. It had been an unbelievably emotionally charged week from the day of the Merle/Rick throwdown on the roof of that Sears. Between the roller-coaster of events and Glenn's daily overtures/apologies, Daryl hadn't really had a moment to catch his breath. Glenn stared at the spot where he'd disappeared for a moment before determinedly turned back to the hatchback, ruthlessly suppressing the feeling that he had to deal with Daryl _right now_.

* * *

><p>Glenn calculated the farm to be about a twenty five minute drive total, first on the highway and then down a winding assortment of back roads. It was strangely awkward being alone with T-Dog. Though the other man had been in the quarry camp for the entire time Glenn had, their paths hadn't crossed much. His cohorts had been Jacqui and Lou Morales back in Atlanta, now he was just as isolated as Daryl seemed to be in the small group that remained.<p>

Glenn had no idea what to say. He gossiped with Andrea, but T-Dog might take his observations and suppositions about the others as criticism which could create all sorts of uncomfortableness whether he agreed or not. With Amy and Peyton they had always jokingly bitched about all the things they didn't miss, like reality TV and waiting in line at Starbucks, but if T-Dog didn't share a similarly cynical sense of humor that line of conversation could do anything from piss him off to seriously depress him.

"I'm sorry about Jacqui."

"Look Glenn, you seem like a good kid, but I am really not in the mood for a discussion about my feelings okay."

"Right. Of Course. I'm sorry."

Glenn watched the road studiously for several minutes before T-Dog took pity on him and broke the tense silence.

"I guess your boy is okay."

"He's not my boy."

"More yours than anyone else's. You're the only one I've ever seen go out of their way to talk to him."

Glenn couldn't argue with that. Though by that logic Merle had technically been his as well, and that thought gave him the heebeegeebees.

"When I saw you get out of that truck that first day. Cute little thing like you, I was worried they'd kidnapped you from someplace. I was headed over to suggest that you share my tent when Shane put you in with Peyton."

Glenn laughed nervously, but it wasn't really funny. There was no law anymore, getting abducted by any asshole who's stronger and doesn't have the scruples to care about the morality of it all was a legitimate danger. Glenn realized, really realized, for the first time how unbelievably lucky he was to be found by Daryl.

"Daryl would never hurt me. He's a good man."

T- Dog conceded the point. "I was really more worried about Merle. He was bigger and intentionally threatening. I figured Daryl would probably just follow his lead. If I'd known then that Daryl was the only one keeping Merle in check, I would have been a helluva lot more nervous."

"Would it be cliché to say Merle had his demons?"

T-Dog gave a shrug of agreement and went back to staring out the window.

"Honestly? I'm glad the two of you get along. Because if any of us are going to make it to old age, it'll be you and Daryl. Well, so long as you don't shoot him again."

That startled a laugh out of Glenn, and they finished the drive in a far more comfortable silence.

AN: yay finally an update! This is really a transition chapter between the story I had planned and the story I have planned now, and I think it shows a bit. Let me know what you think!


	7. At the Pharmacy

**Safe**

Chapter 7

AN: Spoilers through Chupacabra, I finally buckled down and wrote out a revised outline for this story to go with the unexpected turns the shows taking this season, so hopefully updates will be coming a little more quickly. There is mentioned Maggie/Glenn in this chapter, nothing graphic, had to be done. :) I hope to finish off up until the episode we just saw in three longish chapters, but then, this weeks could change everything so who knows? :D There should be some slashy goodness in the next chapter, I tentatively promise

The farm was a balm on everyone's ragged nerves; even more so than the CDC and the perceived security they had had there. Day to day life hadn't ground to a halt here, it couldn't. The cows still had to be milked, the chickens had to be fed, Glenn was fairly certain that he had seen Hershel's youngest daughter and her boyfriend sneaking off to the barn for some afternoon nookie, trying to conceal a large bundle of blankets between them. At the Greene's life seemed blissfully normal. Well, maybe not _normal_ normal as far as a city boy like Glenn was concerned, but normal in a picturesque Mayberry sort of way that was nevertheless very comforting. The Greene family's seeming denial about the danger the walkers posed wasn't very practical, but it was kind of infectious.

Glenn found Maggie's innocence in regards to the horrifying shit storm all around them very appealing. As they walked their horses slowly into the nearby town, Maggie peppered him with anecdotes about the people that had lived in all of the pretty little houses they passed in hushed tones as if she was worried someone would overhear her gossiping. And though her gentle prattle wasn't quite enough to make him forget that the world had ended, as they gingerly picked their way around abandoned cars and badly decomposed corpses, it provided enough distraction to let him pretend for a little while.

Glenn didn't think twice when she offered to have sex with him. His libido had been on overdrive since his recent sexual reawakening, and how often did a beautiful girl say "eh, why not?" and take off her shirt? He would later rationalize that Daryl hadn't actually shown any interest in him, but the truth is at the time he hadn't thought of Daryl at all.

* * *

><p>As they made their way back to the farm, (Maggie was silent this time, Glenn attributed it to speechlessness at having her world rocked so hard), Glenn's thoughts drifted to Daryl and the implications of what they had done sank in. This was possibly what Daryl had been trying to tell him. Judging by his inspired (though admittedly brief) performance in the pharmacy, Glenn was clearly not gay, so his temporary sexual identity crisis was just a result of him being so sex-deprived that he didn't even realize he was horny until his frenzied mind had locked onto the only potential sexual partner in the vicinity. (Glenn felt the inkling of wrongness in that explanation in the form of a giant Andrea shaped hole, but another of the most enduring aspects of his personality was his ability to ignore giant gaping flaws in his logic.)<p>

Daryl had been doing without for at least as long as Glenn, but did he jump on the first warm body that had shown an inkling of interest? He'd recognized Glenn's overtures for the desperation that prompted them and as politely as he knew how had asked Glenn to back off.

When you put it that way, punching Glenn in the face had been down right gentlemanly of Daryl.

Glenn however, in awkward Glenn fashion, had allowed his hormone addled lower brain to do the talking and had coerced Daryl into starting something Glenn wasn't anywhere near ready to finish. He'd clearly made Daryl feel like crud, he'd embarrassed himself to the point that he had trouble looking anyone in the face, and all for a fleeting attraction that vanished as soon as a pair of boobs showed up. Well most of it had, and he he was pretty sure that any residual attraction was the result of leftover horniness and with a little help from the farmers daughter would be cleared up within the next few days.

The hell of it was, Glenn really _missed_ Daryl. He missed sitting around pretending to smoke while Daryl silently brooded like a gay vampire. And the smug little smiles Daryl always seemed to flash him when a member of their band of survivors did something stupid and "city-folk like" (complaining about the lack of toilet paper, refusing to eat squirrel organs, using the water that it had taken over an hour to purify to wash their hair) as if Glenn was sharing the secret joke. More than anything he missed sitting silently by Daryl's little fire, basking in the warm security that the slightly bigger, slightly brawnier, way more bad-ass man had come tho represent to him. Surely now that Glenn had straightened himself out and would no longer be throwing himself at Daryl, they could heal that rift? Go back to how things were?

The thought cheered him considerably and he rode the last leg back to camp with a big dopey grin on his face, despite Maggie's protests.

* * *

><p>The next time he saw Daryl was when the redneck caught him red handed ogling Maggie's backside as she took the laundry down that evening. Before Glenn could stammer out an explanation and another apology, Daryl gave him an amused look that clearly said "I told you so." Glenn decided to take it as tacit forgiveness when Daryl sank down onto a tree stump a few feet away, taking out the dark green oilcloth sheath that he used to store the arrows he used for shooting food rather than walkers. As soon as an arrow had touched walker blood Daryl kept it in a separate bag made out of tough black Naugahyde and never used it for food again, though he cleaned those arrows just as carefully. Glenn saw there were only six arrows left in the food arrows\ pouch. He made a mental note to keep an eye peeled for a sports equipment store the next time he was in a town.<p>

"I hear you were showin' off some impressive ropin' skills earlier." Glenn blushed. He wondered briefly who would have told Daryl, but quickly realized it didn't really matter. Daryl seemed to be made up entirely of ears sometimes with all the details he knew about everyone and everything in camp. If Daryl were half the busybody Dale was, it would be impossible to keep anything quiet for more than a day.

"Between you and me, it was kind of a fluke. I was freaking out so bad that I dropped the rope and it sort of caught on him. I didn't realize I had a real hold until I was halfway back up the well." Daryl gave that soft rumbling chuckle of his. Glenn still thought it was pretty damn sexy, but he pushed that out of his mind.

"So how goes the search? Do we have a plan for tomorrow yet?"

Daryl thought about it for a minute then nodded. "Think I'm gonna ride a horse up that ridge, see what's what." Glenn nodded in agreement.

"Shane said he was going to do a firearms training class tomorrow evening. After that maybe Rick will give me back my gun." When Daryl met his eyes he looked sort of uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to say something then seemed to think better of it and snapped it shut again. Glenn frowned. "What?"

Daryl hesitated, but finally said "be careful."

Glenn gave a weak smile and stretched his legs out toward the fire. "Don't worry about that, I learned my lesson about gun safety."

"I don't mean that." He paused and then continued in a slightly softer voice. "Just watch your back. Not everybody's gonna bite the bullet for the good of the group like Saint Rick. Some folk are always gonna be looking out for number one."

Glenn waited a moment for him to elaborate, but Daryl just turned back to his arrows. After a moment Glenn shrugged it off as typical Dixon cynicism. They sat in silence, just like how they used to, for the better part of an hour until a movement beyond the tents caught Daryl's attention.

"Where the hell does she think she's goin'?" Glenn looked up and followed Daryl's gaze to see the tall lean frame of Lori walking briskly out into the north pasture. Daryl rose to follow, his crossbow already swung up into the ready position, but Glenn tugged him back down. Well, tugged fairly hard on his pant leg and earned himself a bewildered eyebrow raise.

"She probably just needs a little time alone. I doubt she'll go far, and it's not like there are a lot of places for walkers to hide in an empty field." Daryl looked suspicious and glanced toward Lori again. She had stopped now about fifty yards away. Daryl slowly sat back down.

"I don't like it. Just 'cause we ain't seein' any walkers don't mean they ain't around. No one should be going out alone."

"She can take care of herself. And look, she doesn't look like she plans on going any further." It was true, she had sat down on something. Though in the dark all they could see was a faint silhouette, Glenn had a fairly good idea of what she was doing. It was weird knowing something Daryl didn't, especially something that had the potential to change the group so much. It made Glenn itch to come clean and ask Daryl what he should do. He managed to keep his mouth shut though because he knew exactly what Daryl would say. He'd shrug and say it was none of his business and it wasn't Glenn's either. Glenn kept that in mind when they saw Lori get up and make her way back to her tent fifteen minutes later and was able to keep from following to ask her what the verdict was.

* * *

><p>Glenn got a little carried away with the return of the status quo, sitting up with Daryl until the wee hours of the morning despite his complete lack of sleep the night before. The next morning when he emerged from his tent, the camp was already bustling. He spotted Daryl in the middle of the morning meeting Rick had called around the hood of the Cherokee, and it made him do a double take. Daryl was wearing sleeves. It looked. . . wrong some how. It actually made him look a little vulnerable. Glenn chuckled at that ridiculous thought and set out searching for Lori. It may be none of his business, but he definitely had to know one way or the other.<p>

It took him the better part of the morning to get her alone (long enough to embarrass himself with some awkward flirting) and when he did, he didn't even have to ask. Her tone when she told him to mind his own business told him everything he needed to know. Rick showed up before he could get any more information, clearly pissed about something, so Glenn made himself scarce.

He spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to over-think things. He managed to get a little more awkward flirting in, an though Maggie still said something cutting about his stamina, at least she laughed when she said it and she smiled at him over her shoulder as she walked away. He finally finished the courtroom drama he had borrowed from Dale more than a month ago. It wasn't his style but his only other options had been a thesaurus and a set of five romance novels about "virile vikings" and the duchesses that loved them. He was almost glad when Andrea called out a walker alarm, it was scary that they were this close to their haven, but for a few minutes he didn't feel completely useless.

Until he saw who the walker was.

Daryl's sleeves were gone, and for one frantic moment that was all Glenn could think about. What had happened to them? Then the horror of what he was seeing set in. His eyes were red and there was blood all down his face and chest, and he was staggering along at the slow pace of the undead. Glenn thought he might cry as he asked the others to confirm what he thought he was seeing.

The angry taunt that Daryl practically shouted at them was quite possible the sweetest sound he had ever heard and Glenn nearly collapsed in relief. Daryl was alive, swaying slightly on his feet, looking like death warmed over, but alive and panting. Up until Andrea shot him.

AN: DUN DUN DUN. Okay fine not actually a cliffy, but it seemed like such a good dramatic place to stop :)

Please let me know how I am doing!


	8. In the Barn

**Safe**

A/N: BAM Mega chapter :D It's because I love ya'll so much. In my quest to make this as close to canon as possible without recapping, really much at all, this possibly ended up a little choppy. But I hate recapping so I am leaving it as is :) This chapter contains spoilers through Pretty much dead all ready.

Chapter 8

Glenn crouched in the corner, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as he silently freaked out, watching Carol carefully bathe Daryl's unconscious body with a soft rag and a bowl of rapidly graying lukewarm water. She'd had to cut his shirt off of him, it was so caked in gore that it had become too stiff to peel off, and there were bits of it deeply embedded in the hole in his side that she cut around and left for Hershel to extract when he came to treat Daryl's wounds.

Hershel had given Daryl a cursory look-over when they had first brought him in and declared him "not so bad." By miracle whatever had punctured his side hadn't hit any major organs or blood vessels and though the force of the bullet had knocked his for a loop, the bullet wound was really just a scratch and didn't even need stitches.

Glenn was having trouble breathing. He didn't make a move to help. Carol had asked him, when he had lingered in the room after the others were gone, if he wanted to be the one to clean Daryl, but Glenn had shook his head and retreated to the farthest corner. It seemed like far too intimate and intrusive a task for him.

"I think he's ready for Hershel to come stitch him up. D'you mind running to get him?" Carol asked as she wrung out her cloth one last time and set it on the tray beside the bowl. Glenn hesitated, not wanting to leave, but when Carol reached for the kitchen shears and started cutting through the crusty denim of Daryl's pants, he practically dove out the door.

After sending Hershel up, Glenn went outside for some fresh air.

When Andrea found him twenty minutes later, he was slouched against the huge shade tree behind the barn, staring vacantly out into the surrounding woods. She approached him carefully from the side so he wouldn't be startled by her suddenly appearing. Even so, he ignored her presence as determinedly as he could.

"Daryl woke up. Rick's with him now trying to pin down where he found the doll. It would probably do him good to see a friendly face." Glenn stood and started hurrying back toward the house, still trying not to acknowledge her, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I am so sorry. What I did was stupid and dangerous and I have no real excuse. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Glenn went completely still. He still didn't turn to look at her. "I think you've done enough. Don't you?" He was surprised by how steady his voice was. And mean. He didn't think he had ever spoken to anyone in such a harsh tone, but he didn't regret it. He wrenched his arm away and nearly ran back to the house.

* * *

><p>Dinner was horribly awkward. More awkward than the first time Merle had ever joined the main group for a meal back at the quarry. More awkward than every dinner he had ever had with his parents. Even more awkward than the time Kelsey's upper crust family had taken them to the best steak house in Atlanta and he had asked the waiter for ketchup.<p>

Glenn wasn't too terribly bothered by it. Daryl was alive and well on his way to full recovery. After Rick left Glenn had sat with him until he fell asleep. He hadn't said much, but just before he drifted off he had flashed one of his rare smiles at something Glenn had said, so Glenn didn't have to pretend to be upbeat as he tried to break the tension at dinner for the sake of group harmony.

Maggie seemed pleased by his efforts. When she passed him a note suggesting another rendezvous Glenn faltered for a second unsure of what to do. He still wasn't with Daryl, still wasn't sure if he was gay or just really attached to his platonic best friend, but he didn't think the time to be making these big decisions and burning bridges was when he was so emotionally raw from seeing the object of his obsession and potential affection get shot shortly after feeling relieved that he wasn't a zombie.

Still, Maggie had never indicated that she wanted more than occasional casual sex from him. He jotted off a quick note for her to meet him. If nothing else he should talk to her about it, and if she was still amenable, a roll in the hay with her might help him decide what to do.

Glenn checked on Daryl again after dinner. He was sleeping, but he had managed to finish off most of the food on the tray Carol had brought him. Glenn tugged the blankets up to cover him a bit better and carried the tray back down to the kitchen before going to find some blankets of his own for his potential tryst.

He found a big old blanket in the closet of the RV that was only slightly scratchy. He thought for a moment about grabbing the set of the freshly washed sheets neatly folded by the side of the bed, but quickly decided that he would rather be chaffed than explain to Carol what he had needed them for.

He about squealed when he turned back toward the door of the camper and saw Dale standing there. Glenn immediately shifted to panicked explanation mode.

"Hey, Dale. Can I borrow this? It's been so cold at night lately." It hadn't been. It had been sweltering, but Dale didn't comment, he he just nodded and smiled a little before his expression went serious again.

"I don't think you're being fair to Andrea." Dale started in his patronizing fatherly tone. "Lets not forget you shot him too." Glenn's expression went cold.

"Fuck off Dale." Glenn pushed past him out the door and headed toward the barn.

* * *

><p>Zombies. In the Barn. Less than 100 yards from Glenn's tent. Shit shit shit. Despite hastily extracted promises to keep it to himself, Glenn desperately wanted to tell Daryl and let the other man handle it. Daryl of course wasn't actually up to handling anything, but that didn't stop Glenn from approaching the house eight times that night only to chicken out when he saw a member of the Greene family or thought too hard about how angry Daryl would be. Daryl kept to himself and was adamant about leaving others to their business, but Glenn was pretty sure that wouldn't extend to letting someone house a dozen brain eating monsters a stones throw from where he slept.<p>

Glenn hadn't slept at all that night. He'd paced, he'd fidgeted, he even started a little fire and cleaned Daryl's arrows even though he knew that Daryl would just re-clean them as soon as he was healthy enough to sit up properly. What to do, what to do, what to do? Glenn fingered an arrow and for one crazed minute thought about taking care of the problem himself. He almost went to talk to Dale but then he remembered the awful thing he had said and was too ashamed to face him.

Glenn passed out from sheer stress and exhaustion in the early morning hours. When he woke up he went to the house to check on Daryl, finally resolved to tell him if only to ask his opinion. He nearly started hyperventilating when he got to Daryl's room and saw Patricia stripping the bed, but she quickly informed him that Daryl was fine, was well enough in fact Hershel had let him be moved out to his tent to sleep in his own sleeping bag at his request earlier that morning.

Daryl's tent was farthest from the house on the outer edge of the camp. Glenn approached cautiously, not wanting to wake his friend if Daryl was sleeping. He heard soft talking as he got closer and paused when he realized that Andrea was in there apologizing. He backed away so as not to eavesdrop and waited nearby.

"I'm sorry Andrea." He blurted out almost as soon as she emerged from the tent a few minutes later. His anger at her for accidentally shooting Daryl had seemed much less important after spending a whole night freaking out about his imminent death. "I know that you would never hurt him on purpose."

Andrea smiled. "I'm sorry too. It was stupid. You guys had it under control and I just wanted to, I don't know, prove myself I guess. I have definitely learned my lesson now."

Glenn turned to walk with her toward the small fire where Carol was making breakfast. "You don't have anything to prove Andrea. There's no one I would rather have watch my back. Well. . . Daryl, I would probably pick Daryl over you. Because of the crossbow. And his sneaky stalking skills. But you're top three for sure." Glenn grinned as Andrea gave him a playful shove just this side of too hard.

They sat together with fairly comfortable chit chat, though Andrea didn't tease Glenn about Daryl like she normally would have. Afterwards he took a bowl of slightly burnt Spaghetti-O's to Daryl's tent, but the redneck was sleeping so he covered it with a plate and left it close enough so Daryl would be able to reach it but far enough away that he wouldn't knock it over. Then Glenn went to look for Lori to check on her and give her his own portion for the baby. Maybe after he would try to apologize to Dale.

* * *

><p>Glenn thought he should probably be embarrassed that Dale had gotten both of the huge secrets he had sworn to keep out of him so easily, but mostly he just felt relieved. As he stuffed supplies in his knapsack on his second pharmacy run in three days he thought about what Dale had said about telling the others. It was probably true that they all had a right to know, but there wasn't really anything they could do about if they didn't want to get kicked off the farm. Honestly Glenn kind of wished that he didn't know himself.<p>

There was also Maggie to consider. Her insistence that the walkers were still her family might technically be naive, but he could hardly blame her. Who wouldn't want to think that there loved ones were just sick? What if he told the others and Rick decided to take kill the walkers despite what Hershel would think. What would that do to her? He'd checked the barn thoroughly once he knew what was in there, and he was pretty sure they wouldn't be able to get out. What could it hurt to sit on the information for a while? One of the others would find out eventually. Heck, Dale knew and he was the least subtle person left on the planet so there was an excellent chance that half the camp knew already. Okay possibly second to least subtle if you counted Glenn and his big secret spilling mouth.

Well, it was settled then. He would keep an eye on the barn and he would try not to tell anyone else just yet.

Then Maggie screamed.

Glenn dispatched the walker rather easily. It wasn't particularly strong or fast, but it had still almost killed Maggie. He was getting lazy. There was a time when he wouldn't have dreamed of grabbing so much as a bottle of water before he was sure the whole building was secure, and he had just let Maggie wander off while he stocked up on luxuries like toothpaste and breath mints without even a cursory glance in the back. Somewhere along the way he had become inured of the constant looming threat of walkers, and it had nearly cost Maggie her life. He needed to tell the others about the barn.

The ride back was mostly silent, but when they got back to the farm Maggie exploded at Lori. Glenn didn't blame really blame Lori, she was scared and didn't know what to do, with good reason, but it was nice to have Maggie defend him. Even so, he did his best to assure Lori he wasn't mad at her before he went off in search of Dale to discuss the best way to let everyone in on the barn situation.

Maggie found him after dinner and dropped some suggestive hints, but Glenn decided to be deliberately obtuse and let them lie where they fell until she got annoyed and left in a huff. This was partially because he was planning to reveal her secret to the group the very next morning (which he doubted would go over well with her) but mostly because he was fairly certain that right after you saved someone's life was not the time to suggest keeping things casual while you decided whether or not you were bisexual. She knew how dangerous the walkers were now so he was sure she would cool off in a few days, and once her hero worship had blown over he wouldn't have to worry that he was taking advantage of her.

* * *

><p>His announcement the next morning went about as well as could be expected; Glenn washed his hands of the entire thing as Shane and Rick fought it out. It was Rick's problem now, Glenn wanted no part of that responsibility.<p>

Glenn spent a large part of his morning avoiding Maggie after his impromptu egg bath. He still thought he did the right thing, but he felt bad about betraying her trust. He saw Carol and Daryl wandering off together at one point and sourly wondered when they had gotten so chummy before kicking himself for being an insensitive boob. Daryl had nearly killed himself trying to find her daughter, of course they were chummy. Still, he had an inkling in his stomach that felt a little like jealousy.

He managed to patch things up with Maggie by early afternoon. He still didn't feel like it was the right time to bring up his potentially curved sexuality however, so he didn't let things progress beyond a little light necking.

They were sitting on the porch together joking about something or other when Shane had stormed the farmhouse with the entire bag of guns.

Days later, T-Dog would coin the term Barnyard Massacre to refer to what happened next. It was an extremely apt description, though no one was killed who wasn't dead already. As the smoke cleared Maggie finally let go of her unresponsive father so she could break down in Glenn's arms. Even then, holding a hysterical Maggie as she screamed into his shoulder, all he could think about was how hard Daryl had searched for that little girl. And how badly this would affect him.

* * *

><p>Daryl disappeared after depositing a still sobbing Carol into Patricia's care. Glenn waited until Maggie had cried herself to sleep before he went searching.<p>

He found Daryl in the barn with a badly damaged hand near an equally bloody wall. He was pacing around agitatedly and fidgeting; it was the most animated Glenn had ever seen him.

"What do you want?" He demanded as he stalked towards Glenn. Glenn took an involuntary step back which caused Daryl to sneer. He moved closer to Glenn, backing him up until he was pressed against the stall door. "It's about time. Maybe now you'll leave me the fuck alone."

For the first time since he had met him, Glenn felt a little bit scared. This was _Daryl_. Daryl embodied protection and safety. But Daryl's eyes were empty. Glenn desperately wanted the spark back, so he acted completely impulsively for possibly the first time in his life. He threw his body as hard against the larger man's as he could and twined his arms around Daryl's neck.

It was different than the fantastic wet dream of a kiss they had shared in the woods by the highway. That kiss had been all heat and wet tongues, but this on was rougher, more primal. This kiss was all teeth and muscle and Daryl's blunt nails leaving welts on Glenn's hips. This kiss was hot in a completely different way. That kiss had been about submitting, allowing Daryl to play his body like a violin. This one was all about control. Before he could over think it he slid his hand into the gap in the front of Daryl's jeans left there by long days and scant meals.

The bulge was still there, felt even bigger and harder than it had before. But Glenn wasn't afraid this time. He was the one in charge. Daryl was his to command. Glenn sank to his knees on the hard concrete floor.

It wasn't bad, he decided. The flavor was nothing to write home about, but it wasn't unpleasant either. Kind of salty, a little bitter, easy to endure for the sake of the sounds Daryl was making as he twitched and writhed under Glenn's inexpert attentions. Daryl's had found it's way into Glenn's hair, but even as angry as he had been when Glenn had found him in the barn, he was gentle and very careful not to thrust his hips. Then Daryl moaned and Glenn lost himself in it. Daryl came apart in less than a minute, and Glenn was pretty sure he managed to swallow most of it.

Daryl was silent after. He didn't move at all as Glenn carefully wiped the saliva off of him with a corner of Daryl's own shirt and gingerly tucked him back into his pants. Daryl was completely still as Glenn climbed slowly to his feet, noting with surprise the sticky feeling in the front of his own boxer shorts. When Glenn smiled at him however, Daryl was out of the barn like a shot.

Glenn stood in shock for several minutes letting the gravity of what had just happened sink in. He wanted nothing more than to keep hiding in there until he had sorted everything out in his mind, but the barn still reeked of it's previous inhabitants and his self preservation instincts kicked in and drove him out the door.

AN: so nervous. This is almost definitely the most blatantly sexual thing I have ever written, so be gentle


	9. By the Washtub Behind the Barn

AN: I am so sorry for 1) falling way behind on my review replies and 2) taking so long to finish this story. All I can really say for myself is Avengers :) I hope to finish this with one more chapter. It's a bit condensed from what I had originally planned, but it is my hope that next week I can get the last chapter of this out along with the first chapter of a Daryl's POV sequel I hope to write along with season 3 :) For that reason constructive criticism is especially welcome as I intend to change my style up a little when writing from Daryl's POV. Let me know if I have any quirks that are distracting (over using certain words, awkward phrasing you have noticed a few times, ect. I know I make Daryl storm out too often, I just like watching him walk away ;) I will work on that)

**Safe**

Chapter 9: By the washtub behind the barn.

Daryl managed to avoid him completely in the few hours leading up to the funeral, but Glenn wasn't worried. To be honest he felt rather proud of himself. He'd taken the plunge, shown Daryl how he really felt, and it left him feeling confident and more than a little sexy.

Daryl disappeared to do whatever Daryl things he had to do right after the service, but Glenn managed to catch his eye and received a minuscule nod in response to his tight smile. Glenn decided to leave him to whatever it was he had to do and approach him in the evening. Daryl always seemed a bit more comfortable around him at night.

Glenn went to the house to see if there was anything there he could help with and was instantly recruited for an emergency run into town with Rick to look for Hershel who had disappeared shortly after the funeral. Glenn wouldn't have minded if it hadn't led almost immediately to him being cornered for an awkward "I care about you please be careful" shakedown from Maggie in the kitchen.

"Don't you go gettin' yourself killed now, ya hear?" Glenn gave a nervous chuckle and tried to squeeze past her toward the door, but she blocked him and stared hard into his eyes waiting for his platitudes and reassurances. Glenn placed his hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a brotherly, completely non-sexual manner.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine. And we'll bring Hershel back in one piece." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and tried to move past her again, but Maggie wrapped her arms around his waist and managed to pull him in for a kiss. He held himself rigid, but she was pulling away before he could disengage himself. She gave him a watery smile and turned away. Just before she left she cast one last look over her shoulder.

"You come back in one piece too. I love you." She turned the corner and bounded up the stairs not waiting for an answer. Then Rick called him from the front entryway and Glenn hurried out to meet him, still too stunned to notice Daryl stalking off into the woods from the direction of the side kitchen door.

* * *

><p>Glenn tried to discuss the unsettling new development of Maggie being in love with him with Rick, but the other man misunderstood and was quick to reassure Glenn that Maggie loving him was good and that he should soak it in while he could. Rick spent most of the rest of the ride talking about how he knew Lori was the one, and by the time they got to town Glenn didn't think Rick was going to be able to help him after all.<p>

They found Hershel in a bar that looked almost untouched by the horrors all around it. It was eerie to see him sitting bellied up to the bar like a worn out cliche. The whole thing made Glenn uneasy, so much so that when two men entered the bar, the first new faces they had seen in over a week since they had stumbled upon the Greenes', his immediate reaction was deep suspicion rather than cautious relief. Glenn didn't know one way or the other whether the men were really enemies or just friendly and desperate. Either way he trusted Rick's judgement, though he was a bit shocked when he'd killed them with so little warning.

Any misgivings Glenn might have had about Rick's newly discovered brutal streak were squelched by fear when they found themselves besieged inside the bar with the dead guys' pals. After a moment's planning Rick sent Glenn to make a run for the car with Hershel covering him. He was halfway there when he heard a gunshot so close he could almost feel the bullet whiz by and turned to see one of the men from the other group howl in pain, dropping the gun that had been trained on Glenn. Instantly that icy all encompassing terror he had felt while he was hiding alone in the liquor store just a few short months ago engulfed him. He managed to cower behind a dumpster before the panic overtook him completely, and stayed there until Rick came and got him.

They escaped the town, the guy who'd skewered himself whimpering in the back seat with Hershel slumped over him sleeping off his bender. Glenn was still shaken from his near miss. His life hadn't flashed before his eyes exactly, but a bunch of thoughts had rushed on him at once and had made his feelings crystal clear. He'd thought of Maggie and her attachment to him, how good it had felt to rescue her, and Andrea and Dale and how much the three of them would miss him when he didn't come back, but mostly he thought of Daryl. How he good he smelled and the way he seemed to have scruffy stubble even if Glenn had seen him shaving less than an hour before. How graceful he was and how much he hated canned veggies but would always eat them dutifully without complaint. How destroyed the look in his eyes had been when Sofia walked out of that barn.

Decision well and truly made, Glenn brought up the subject of Maggie again but this time made it completely obvious what he was asking.

"How do I tell Maggie I can't be with her like that without hurting her too bad?" Rick was quiet for a few long moments, staring out at the road. Glenn had almost decided that Rick was going to pretend he hadn't heard so he didn't have to deal with sticky emotional dilemmas when he finally answered.

"Well I guess all you can really do is try your best to be kind. She is going to be a little heartbroken anyway you slice it, and she won't have the luxury of avoiding you because our world has gotten very small. Eventually her heart will heal, and some day you might be friends, but until then all you can really give her is honesty, and as much space as you can manage."

Glenn nodded, he'd come to a similar conclusion. "So you think I should tell her the truth?"

Rick considered this for a moment. "I think I'd leave Daryl out of it for now if that's what you mean." Glenn blushed hotly and looked away. "Give her some time to get over you before she has to deal with knowing that she was replaced with someone else she has to see every day. You two have been pretty discreet up til now, a little longer won't hurt anything."

Glenn nearly corrected Rick's assumption that he and Daryl had been intimate, but checked himself, realizing with a warm feeling in his stomach that it wasn't wrong. At least, not anymore.

Hershel roused himself just as they were pulling up to the farm. Within ten minutes he had a makeshift operation going while Shane scowled nearby and quietly argued with Rick. Glenn's intention had been to go have words with Maggie immediately upon their arrival back to the farm, but he was waylaid by Dale pulling him aside.

"Could you go talk to Daryl please?" Glenn looked at him questioningly. "He isn't taking the loss of Sofia very well. He yelled at Lori earlier and an hour or so ago he said some really awful things to Carol. We're all upset. I know he probably has more right to be a little unhinged than most of us, but I really think he needs someone to talk to, and I know you're his friend."

Glenn nodded, all thoughts of Maggie forgotten, and went looking for Daryl instead.

Glenn found him at his fire on the edge of camp, meticulously honing one of his hunting knives. Daryl's things were strewn out around him in a very un-Daryl like fashion, taking up all of the convenient places to sit in a four foot radius. Glenn stood there awkwardly for a few moments, silent until it became obvious Daryl had no intention of making room for him.

"Dale says. . ." He started, but Daryl had jumped to his feet as soon as he managed the first syllable and crowded into Glenn's personal space.

"You come here to talk about that old man?"

Glenn gulped. "N-No?" Daryl shoved him backwards into the open tent.

* * *

><p>Doing laundry by hand was <em>hard.<em> Glenn grabbed another shirt out of the hot soapy tub and started scouring it on the ancient washboard. He had already accidentally torn off six buttons, and his hands were red and sore from the repetitive motion and the harsh soap. He'd had almost nothing useful to do in the week following his trip into town with Rick, and had so annoyed Lori hovering around trying to be helpful that she had practically hurled the massive bag of dirty clothes at him.

He'd set to work at the pump behind the barn, well out of sight of the main house which was good because he had almost nothing on except his new blue cotton briefs. His male logic had indicated that this was the only way to do laundry, because if he washed all of his clothing at once, he would have a whole extra day before he had to wash his clothes again. He'd felt a bit self conscious at first, but it was a nice day, and it had been so long since he'd allowed his skin to breath for any length of time, that he soon decided it was rather pleasant and then forgot about his unclothed state all together.

Shirt now fairly clean, Glenn wrung it out before dunking it in the slightly less murky rinsing water, doing his best to squeeze out all the soap. He shook it out and gave it a critical once over. It was a button up ladies blouse and he was pretty sure it was Carol's. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to be the dingy red-gray color that half of the things he had washed seemed to be, but it didn't have any noticeable stains so he considered it a win and hurried over to hang it on the drying line he had set up nearby. He plucked the next item up out of the sudsy water, and was scrubbing it for over five minutes before he was able to identify it as a pair of Daryl's jeans. His favorite pair of Daryl's jeans actually, the snug ones with the tiny, pinky-finger sized hole on the underside of the left back pocket. Glenn's touch instantly became far more delicate.

This thing with Daryl was. . . different than he had expected. Mostly in that it wasn't really that different at all. Daryl gave no outward indication that his situation with Glenn had changed one iota. He still kept mostly to himself, self sufficient at the very edge of camp, almost as if he was getting ready to bolt. If it weren't for the three, rather hurried sexual encounters that Glenn had managed to initiate this past week, Glenn would wonder if he had imagined the afternoon in the barn. Glenn tried not to stress about it, Daryl was certainly in a vulnerable state after Sofia and Glenn had no doubt that in time he would open up, but this relationship with a guy business was new to Glenn and he worried sometimes that he was doing it wrong. Unfortunately the only gay guy he knew that he could ask was most of the problem, so mostly Glenn just fretted and tried his best to give Daryl breathing room.

He looked up about midway through his tub of clothes to see Maggie, amused, offering him a sandwich. It took him a beat to realize he was still in just his skivvies. He hurriedly pulled on the nearest shirt, one of Daryl's sleeveless rags. Maggie frowned slightly and Glenn wondered if she suspected the real reason he broke up with her, but she shrugged it off and reached for her own sandwich, clearly intending to stay until Glenn had eaten.

Maggie had taken to seeking Glenn out whenever she had a spare moment in the week since Glenn had broken things off. Glenn didn't know how to deal with her constant presence He'd defaulted to trying to act normally and being very very careful not to lead her on at all. It had worked out surprisingly well in that they'd actually become quite good friends, and after three days of Glenn very determinedly shying away whenever she tried to get physical, even that had begun to peter out a bit. She still talked about the future in terms of them being a couple sometimes, but Glenn was always quick to change the subject or deliberately misunderstand that when she said we she meant just the two of them.

"So I 've been thinking about us." Maggie started and Glenn cleared his throat deliberately looking away.

"We're friends." He replied to her unspoken question.

"We're more than friends." She shifted a little closer to him and nudged him with her shoulder. Glenn took a large bite of his sandwich to avoid answering.

Maggie watched him chew for a few minutes. When he was done she turned the upper part of her body and stared at him until he looked her in the eye. "I think you need to man up Glenn. If you died tomorrow I would be destroyed whether we are sleeping together or not. But if we aren't then I will always regret not taking the joy when I had the chance. We don't have time for all this pussy-footing around each other. The truth is either one of us could die tomorrow. Or the next day, or the day after. So grow a pair."

Well crap.

"I...uh." Glenn was saved by Andrea, running towards them while calling Maggie's name and insisting she was needed at the house. Maggie paled a bit and ran off toward the main house, passing Andrea without a glance as she came to a stop near Glenn.

They watched as Maggie hurried off toward the house. Glenn saw Daryl just past the RV looking at him so he smiled and waved. Daryl didn't smile back, but he nodded before going back to whatever it was he was trying to repair. When Glenn turned to ask Andrea if she knew any more details about the problem at the house, she was staring at him with an odd look on her face.

"What?" He asked, moving a hand to his own face as if he might find something stuck to it.

"What are you doing Glenn?" Andrea's tone wasn't quite accusing, but it wasn't exactly inquisitive either. She had her arms folded in front of her and her eyes looked troubled. "If you're going to be with Maggie that's fine, but don't lead him on like this." She eyed Daryl's shirt, hanging loose and half open on Glenn's smaller frame.

"What are you talking about? I'm not with Maggie."

Andrea raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Since when?"

Glenn frowned and glanced toward the barn. "Since we found Sofia."

Now Andrea looked puzzled. "Everyone knows you two are together. You're always talking. Lori's constantly going on about the romance of it all. I'm fairly certain Carol's going to throttle her sooner rather than later on Daryl's behalf."

Glenn had to admit that they had been together a lot lately. "She's my friend. She just needs someone to talk to."

Andrea didn't seem convinced. "Dale said you told him you were sleeping with her."

Ugh, Dale and his colossal mouth. "I was." Glenn admitted. "Back when we first got here, but I swear I haven't touched her since I got together with Daryl. I haven't told her about Daryl yet, but I made it abundantly clear that I can't be with her."

"Does he know that?" Andrea was looking at the stump where just minutes ago Daryl had been angrily pounding away at some bent out of shape farm tool. He was gone now, and so was his crossbow. Glenn went cold.

* * *

><p>Glenn was dressed in his own clothing and pulling the last of the (slightly crunchy) laundry down when the green hatchback pulled up to the front of the farmhouse. Rick climbed out of the drivers seat looking sour and gave Shane a hard glare for a moment before the other man grunted and went around the back of the car to open the tailgate. Most of the group had gathered by the time Shane pulled a bound, blind-folded, very much not gone Randal out by the collar of his shirt. Glenn noticed that Daryl was finally back from wherever he'd been all afternoon, his face dark and closed off.<p>

With a jerk of his head Rick directed Shane to take his charge back to the barn, then he turned to address his small band of followers. Glenn and the others stared at him silently waiting for some sort of explanation.

"We have a problem"

Glenn imagined he could feel the collective "No Shit" from the assembled camp.

"Randal is from around here. He knows the Greenes."

Carol half raised her hand like she was a highschooler with a question and Rick tipped his head toward her. "I don't understand. Why is that bad?"

Surprisingly it was Daryl that answered, his gruff voice gentle as he spoke to Carol. "It means he knows were we are. He could lead the rest of his group right back here if they decide they need a little vigilante justice."

Rick nodded in agreement. "But we're not gonna let that happen."

"What are we going to do about it?" T-Dog asked. Rick hesitated.

"We don't have to do anything about it this second. Better to wait and see what we can find out." By now Shane had returned from the barn and he was frowning at the back of Rick's head as the other man walked over to Daryl and started to speak softly. Daryl looked grim, but he was nodding his agreement and murmuring quiet responses. After a moment he looked up and his eyes sought out Glenn's. He held Glenn's gaze for a long moment before he turned and headed past Shane toward the barn. Glenn had a very bad feeling about this.

AN2: I didn't have time to rewatch the season, so my timing of things might be a bit off. The conversation between Glenn and Maggie happens between when Andrea says she will sit with Beth for a while (after Lori told her to tell Glenn to man up) and when Andrea comes to find her because Beth tried to kill herself which Andrea (creepily) seemed to think was good news. Sorry if this has glaring errors, want to post before I leave for the weekend and I just got a text we were leaving way early


	10. Anywhere

AN: SORRY! I kept thinking of things I had to add and this chapter got longer and longer and so I have not even WATCHED a single episode of this season yet, let alone written a single word. But here is the end of Safe. It's over, it's finished, and it makes me kind of sad.

**SAFE**

Chapter 10: Anywhere

Rick stopped Glenn when he went to follow Daryl to the barn. Hadn't let him anywhere near. When Daryl emerged and gave his report of what Randal had to say Glenn had sneaked away to check and very quickly wished he hadn't.

Randal had been beaten all to hell. He was bleeding and whimpering in the corner, big cuts on his arms and legs that Glenn was fairly certain hadn't been there before. Glenn ducked back out of the barn before he made himself sick.

He found Daryl at his little campsite, making preparations to go out hunting.

"The fuck was that Daryl? The kid looked like the secret police got him. Surely there was another way." Daryl bristled.

"You think I enjoyed it? Think I like hurting people?"

"NO! No, I could never ever think that. I'm a little shocked that you even knew how."

Daryl crumpled, all of his bluster whooshing out of him in a deep sigh. He gave a humorless chuckle and said the one word that really explained everything.

"Merle"

Glenn stared at him horrified and Daryl rushed to explain. "Naw, he didn't. . . Merle never laid a hand on me. But he'd tell stories. Detailed stories. Things he'd done, things he'd seen others do. It scared the fuck out of me when I was a kid."

Glenn nodded and moved closer, resting one of his hands on Daryl's slumped shoulder.

"You don't have to be that guy Daryl. You don't have to do Rick's dirty work just because you know how. You are a better man than that!"

Daryl brushed him off and slung his crossbow across his back, turning toward the woods.

"The fuck would you know about it?"

"He's using you Daryl. He's using you to do what he doesn't want to and you're letting him." Daryl snorted.

"And you ain't? I seen you with that Greene girl, kissin' and talkin' all quiet. She know you come to me when you get a hankerin' for some strange? Or does she just not care 'cause I ain't really competition?"

That doused Glenn's anger like a bucket of ice water.

"Is that what you think?" He wasn't shouting now, his tone was sad and almost strangled. "Do you think I care so little for you? There is no competition Daryl. You've already won."

Glenn reached a hand out and settled it on Daryl's elbow. "I haven't touched her since I kissed you."

Daryl shifted but didn't pull away. "You two are awfully cozy." He sounded skeptical.

Glenn risked a few steps forward. "I know. I'm sorry. I do love her. She's my friend, really the only one here that's my age. There are so few of us now. We get along well and I like her company. I should have made my feelings for you more clear though. I want to be with you Daryl. I love her as a friend, a fellow human, a sister even, but I am completely in love with you."

Daryl spat at the ground. "Horseshit." He pulled away roughly. "I'm not some dumb high school girl. I ain't gonna stay here and make nice with her, turn a blind eye just cause you say lovey dovey shit and make empty promises." He started to walk away. Glenn wanted to throw something at the back of his head.

He settled for shouting at him instead. "You are such a fucking coward."

Daryl spun around and stalked back to Glenn, crowding him back into a tree. "You don't know shit."

Rather than shrink back, Glenn pushed forward. Molding himself into Daryl's body and wrapping his fingers around the other man's ribs. "I know you're running away again."

Daryl didn't move to break away, but his face went from flaming mad to a frightening ice cold in an instant. "You got no hold on _me_ boy. Run back to your little girlfriend."

Glenn smashed his lips inelegantly against Daryl's, realizing with surprise that it was the first time they had kissed since in the barn just after the funeral. Daryl was frozen for a moment, but quickly got with the program, fumbling with Glenn's fly. Glenn stilled his hand, cupping it with one of his own.

"Wait. There is something we need to make absolutely fucking clear first." Daryl's eyes focused on his, and for a moment he just looked so lost that Glenn felt a wave of guilt. How had he not noticed this before? How had he not seen that their intimacy was hurting Daryl? Well, he could fix that now. He would fix it now if he had to beat Daryl over the head with the truth. "I am with you. This thing we are doing? It's exclusive, and I hope, for the rest of our lives. I am not with Maggie and haven't been with her since that day in the barn."

Expressions were fighting each to take over Daryl's face. Hope and disbelief, joy and wariness. Glenn decided to help him out by kissing him again, slowly backing the other man toward the open tent flap. Daryl might not be completely convinced yet, but Glenn had always been better at doing things than saying them.

* * *

><p>Glenn woke alone at mid-morning, Daryl having slipped out around dawn to do manly Daryl things. He stretched languidly and considered for a minute rolling over and going back to sleep before the sounds of the camp work already in full swing intruded and drove him out of the tent.<p>

Things were tense that day on the farm. With the exception of Dale who ran around campaigning for Randal's survival, no one said a word about their prisoner or what was likely to happen to him that night. Glenn went about his chores automatically, trying not to think too hard about the whole rough situation. He avoided Maggie at all costs only to have to suffer through a very uncomfortable conversation with Hershel about how he was probably good enough to sleep with the man's daughter. He left the heirloom Hershel had foisted on him in the top of Maggie's jewelry box and hid in the disused greenhouse on the very edge of the property for the rest of the day, under the guise of salvaging old gardening tools.

He didn't see Daryl at all until the meeting that night, when everyone gathered in the living room like the damn neighborhood watch to vote whether Randal should live or die. Afterward Dale stormed off before Glenn could apologize and try to explain himself. He sought out Daryl instead, needing the other man's steady presence to remind him why it had to be done.

Daryl hadn't gone far. He was on the gloomy section of the veranda, just past the point where the porch light really reached, leaning back in an old rocking chair with one of his feet on the banister. Glenn hopped up next to his foot and played with the laces and toe of Daryl's boot until his fingers found the small round hole on the side and he realized that it was the foot he'd shot. Glenn dropped it like a hot coal and quickly put his hands in his lap causing Daryl to chuckle. Glenn managed a small smile in reply.

"I'll stop spending time with her if it bothers you." Daryl looked at him questioningly but Glenn was pretty sure he understood. Glenn decided to clarify anyway. "Maggie. I won't spend my free time with her if it worries you. She's very important to me, but I care more about us that I do about my friendship with her."

Daryl nodded but said "No. You were right. We're all family now. I trust you. The way I figure it, the Greenes are just as much our family now as Carol 'n Dale 'n Rick. We gotta stick together even if it means a little uncomfortableness. That's what families do."

Before Glenn could think what to respond, Rick cleared his throat on the porch steps; Daryl nodded and went to follow him toward the barn. Glenn stopped him with a hand on his arm "You don't have to do this. Rick's in charge, it was his call. Let him be the executioner."

Daryl shook him off, but not roughly. "No. I voted for that boy to die. I think I made the right call, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowin' I made a choice like that and then shied away from the hard part. I need to own it."

Glenn nodded. He understood, but he couldn't bring himself to follow the two men. He hoped Daryl didn't think less of him for it.

When they disappeared into the barn Glenn collapsed into the vacated rocking chair and pushed off with his toes.

"I can't decide whether it's better or worse that it's not one of the other women." Glenn jumped to his feet and spun around.

Maggie was on the bench at the very edge of the veranda with her back against the house. Even knowing she was there he could barely see her. It was too dark and she was partially hidden behind the woodpile. A million denials sprang to mind, explanations for what she had heard, but he only said "I'm sorry."

She tilted her head back against the wall so all he could see was the delicate point of her chin and waved off his apology with a careless flick of her hand. "He's not wrong. Friends are by far our most valuable commodity. We're a family of sorts and we really can't afford to be at odds with each other over petty squabbles. I do love you Glenn. I'll probably keep hoping you change your mind, but your friendship means a lot to me. I won't get in the way. I'll be damned if I'm going to let Daryl fucking Dixon be the bigger person."

"Your friendship means the worl-"

"Still," she cut him off. "I don't think I'll feel much like talking to you for the next few days at least."

Glenn knew a dismissal when he heard one so he hurried away. He was more than halfway there when he realized he had been making a beeline for Daryl's tent. He felt a moment of uncertainty, unsure if he was presuming too much since they technically had only been an actual item for one day, and wondering if his presence would even be welcome when Daryl was done with the things he had to do tonight, but his steps barely faltered before he quickened his pace along the same path. If he wasn't wanted Daryl would make absolutely no bones about telling him so.

He was nearly to the tent flap when he heard Dale scream.

* * *

><p>Dale's death hit them all hard, but it seemed to be just the kick in the pants they had all needed. After the decision was made to find some other way to deal with Randal, the tension that had been ratcheted up so high the previous week seemed to dissipate completely. Still no one really talked about Randal, or what there plans were for him beyond assigning people to feed him and hose out his latrine bucket, but everyone seemed to have a purpose now, and they all threw themselves into their various chores gladly in an effort to get the farm ready for winter.<p>

There was a lot more work to do, beyond the day to day business of staying alive, now that they had decided to batten down the hatches for the upcoming winter. They did patrols around the whole property, looking for gaps in the fences and killing the few walkers that managed to slip through. Glenn and the Greene girls raided the fields and orchards of all the nearby farms looking for late fruit and leftover harvest that Lori and Patricia could turn into jars upon jars of preserves. T-dog, who as it turned out was a horticulturist, took over the small unused greenhouse and started a seed store, saving enough good crop that they would be able to plant something for themselves come spring.

Maggie was still sore at him, but Glenn hardly noticed. He spent all his free time now hanging out with Daryl, no longer concerned that he was intruding. Mostly this consisted of Glenn watching Daryl work between the adrenaline-fueled supply runs he now seemed to go on twice daily.

He was sitting in a lawn chair four days after they buried Dale, watching the perfection of Daryl's muscled ass in it's form hugging jeans and ruminating on the fact that he doesn't really miss boobs as much as he thought he would.

"They're awfully cute together." Andrea dangled a lukewarm beer in Glenn's line of sight as she plopped into the remaining deck chair and turned to watch as Daryl and Carl worked under the hood of an old station wagon salvaging parts. Glenn nodded his thanks and popped the cap off with the blunt edge of his hunting knife.

"Rick asked us to keep an eye on him while he an Lori have a parenting pow wow. Something about Carl stealing Daryl's back-up pistol. He's being a big help though, hasn't whined once. Must feel guilty."

Andrea watched them for a moment with a frown. "I hate to say it, but maybe we should get him a gun of his own. The way the world is we can't exactly afford to wait to teach him how to shoot when he's grown up."

Glenn took a moment to process what she said as he was distracted by Daryl reaching far back into the engine and flexing his rear in a particularly enticing manner. When he realized what she had said he looked over at her and thought about it for a moment. He didn't disagree. Hell he thought it was a damn good idea.

"Maybe I'll give Rick that pink gun. I don't think I could shoot it again anyway." Andrea snorted and nudged his shoulder with her own. They sat enjoying the view for nearly an hour before T-dog came to get Daryl for the second attempt at dumping Randal someplace far enough away that they would be safe.

* * *

><p>"Head in the game Glenn."<p>

Glenn shook himself and strengthened his grip on his machete. Now was not the time to be day dreaming. Not when there was a potentially murderous ex-prisoner on the loose. They were quickly losing the light and if he and Daryl couldn't find the kid he doubted Shane and Rick had a snowball's chance. He said as much to Daryl.

Daryl gave Glenn a long look. "Something stinks about this."

"About Randal getting loose?"

"About the whole thing. Shane is the most paranoid son of a bitch I ever have met, and my daddy thought the government had little cameras in his shower head. You telling me that a big, trained fighter like Shane who half expects someone to attack him when he goes to take a shit was punched by a tied up, hungry, tired kid like Randal and blacked out long enough that Randal had time to get away?"

Glenn thought of the implications of that until Daryl asked for his flashlight and headed back toward the scant trail they had seen earlier.

"two sets of tracks here, Shane followed him a lot longer than he said. There's blood on this tree."

Pieces started to fall together in Glenn's head. He could kind of see the vague outline of what Daryl was trying to show him but something niggled in the back of his mind, like he was missing something.

A walker lunged out from behind a nearby tree and got it's arms around Daryl.

Glenn didn't hesitate, he tackled the geek . It wasn't until he was standing over the the damn thing that he realized the zombie was Randal. Daryl wasted no time in examining the body and quickly proclaimed there were no bites on it anywhere. Randal had died of a broken neck. Glenn was so confused by the lack of walker involvement that it took a minute for that to sink in.

"Shane killed him"

Daryl nodded.

"You think he...Rick?"

"Shane sure as hell didn't take him to find Randal."

"We need to warn him." Glenn made a move to go deeper into the woods, but Daryl pulled him back by the arm and started back toward the farm instead.

"Rick knows. He'd have to be a fool not to and that man ain't no fool. We need to get back. They'll work it out one way or th' other." A loud gunshot sounded through the woods and Glenn flinched. "We'd best be getting back."

Glenn moved ahead, so it was instead him tugging Daryl through the underbrush. "We need to hurry, we need to warn everyone about what Shane did."

Daryl picked up the pace. "Naw, they'll all know if one of 'em comes back alone. Hell, most of them half suspected something like this might crop up after Otis, but no one wants to be the one to stir the pot. If they both come back it means Rick's convinced he isn't a threat anymore. Man ain't stupid, just a little soft."

Glenn faltered. "Otis?" But even as he said it it all clicked into place. The gun, Shane's injuries, and his radical attitude change when he got back from the high school. Glenn felt like a complete idiot. Daryl gave him a raised eyebrow, like he was just figuring out something obvious. "So what do we do?"

"Not much we can do. If Rick comes back, then the problem's solved for us. And if it's Shane by himself, well, I guess everyone will have a decision. No one's gonna wanna shoot Shane. We've lost to many able bodies already. It's just a question of who can live with pretending they don't know what he's done, and who can't.

Glenn drew up short so that Daryl managed to get several paces ahead of him. "What about you?"

Daryl turned and waited for him to catch up. "Well, Shane is dangerous, there ain't no denying that. I don't much like our chances with him. But then, winter's comin' up fast, you and I could make a go of it easy, but Carol probably couldn't take it, and Lori and the Greene girls would be more of a hindrance than a help even if we could convince them to come, which I doubt. 'Sides, I know you won't ditch 'em, and I sure as hell don't plan to ditch you. Or Carol for that matter, two of you are the only ones worth half a damn in the whole of the world. I figure we wait, lay low, come spring we see what's what, maybe slip away, maybe don't."

Committing himself for several months in the same place was tantamount to a marriage proposal from Daryl. Glenn caught himself grinning despite the shitty situation.

Everyone was gathered in the farmhouse when they got back. Daryl didn't let on about what he suspected, even agreeing to go out looking for Rick on Lori's request up until they actually got outside and saw the massive horde of walkers descending on the farm.

After the decision was made to try and save the farm, Daryl was quick to act. He vaulted the railing of the porch and started for his motorcycle. Glenn followed, but as he reached the bike Daryl hastily waved him away.

"Too dangerous with two, bike isn't as easy to maneuver, I gotta worry about you while I worry 'bout the walkers, I'll just get us both killed. Go with Maggie. She may be good with a gun but she hasn't seen as many of them as we have, she may well spook. Meet 'cha back at the highway worse comes to worst." Glenn hesitated, but Daryl pulled him in for a swift kiss before throwing the bike into gear and tearing off. Maggie pulled up behind him a second later in the little green hatchback

It feels like hours that they are driving around the farm, battling undead, but in reality it's a little less than 10 minutes. Maggie held up admirably, she didn't start to fall apart until they were fleeing down the road, and even then it was to plead that they go back and search for the others. He told her to pull over so he could drive while she calmed down.

"I love you. I should have told you a long time ago." It was true. He did love her. He needed to reassure her of that. Even if he was in love with Daryl, he loved Maggie too and would die protecting her if need be. She nodded and started to breath more slowly so turned the car back on and pulled away from the shoulder.

Maggie was silent for several minutes before she asked tentatively "Did you just say that to get me to stop freaking out?"

Glenn risked a glance over at her but quickly trained his eyes back on the road. "No. I'm still with Daryl, but I do love you. No matter what happens, who made it out or who died, I want you to know that I am here for you."

Maggie looked on the verge of tears again so Glenn reached over to take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. She watched their joined hands for a few minutes. "I'll wait for you, if you want. If you just need to get Dixon out of your system I understand, I could wait as long as I knew I was going to get you back."

Glenn gave her hand a parting squeeze and pulled it away. "I'm sorry. It's not like that with Daryl. It's not just a sex thing, when I'm with him I feel... I'm so so sorry for hurting you. I'll always be here for you but without Daryl I'm just. . ."

She gave him a sad smile. "I think I understand. I'll take that friendship if it's still on the table. I'll take what I can get. I just feel safer when you're around."

Glenn didn't think he had ever felt as relieved in his entire life as he did when he saw Daryl in his rear view. The bike quickly overtook them, Carol waved happily from her perch on the back, and lead them all the way back to the highway. The elation of them all being together though is short lived when T-dog says he saw Andrea go down.

It was an uncomfortable, sleepless night to say the least. After Rick's impassioned confession and commencing his new system of martial law, things were unsettled to the point that no one made a single sound for hours. No one even put on a pretense of trying to sleep. Maggie hovered close to Glenn but didn't touch him. She even scooted over to make a bit of room when Daryl returned from checking the perimeter on Rick's non-verbal order. Daryl looked surprised, he hadn't even been near them when she gave up her seat, but he back-tracked a bit from his course to sit on the opposite side of the fire and dropped down between them with a nod.

Glenn for his part, mulled over their situation and everything Rick had said. Rick may have not sounded the most stable when he said it, and Glenn might still be slightly put out that Rick had decided to keep the the truth about the infection to himself, but on the whole, Glenn still trusted Rick. Besides, Rick had given them a goal, and where there was a goal, there was a plan.

The sky was just barely beginning to lighten when Glenn came to a conclusion.

"Rick's idea isn't bad." All eyes swerved toward him. A few looked skeptical, Hershel and Maggie both managed to look hopeful, but mostly everyone just looked tired and defeated.

"Think about it. The number of zombies isn't infinite. They aren't breeding or springing up from the ground. The zombies are restricted to the number of people that were on this continent when Wildfire hit." Some of the looks he was getting shifted to confusion. Lori rolled her eyes.

"Tell me you aren't suggesting we shoot everyone in North America. That plan's a little crazy even for you." Glenn decided to ignore her sarcastic tone and treat it like a legitimate concern.

"I'm saying we don't have to. They're decaying! They get weaker every day. How long does it take for an unembalmed corpse to decay down to bones? Five years? Maybe? And the walkers will decay even faster. They are completely exposed to the elements. They wander around blindly until bits of them fall off. We go some place moist and warm and they'll disintegrate even faster. Maybe three years, or two."

Now Rick looked hopeful, but Carol was still unimpressed. "You heard Rick. _EVERYONE _is infected. Any one of us could turn into one of those monsters."

Glenn was shaking his head before she was even done speaking. "I'm not saying we don't have to be careful, we will probably have to be careful the rest of our lives. We definitely need to start putting bullets in the brains of everyone who dies without waiting for them to turn. But how many walkers could that be? How many living people are there that could be turned into fresh walkers? Maybe, if we are really lucky, a couple of thousand spread out across the whole US. Ten years from now we will be able to go for years without running into a walker. We just need to find a place to hole up and wait this thing out. Some place with high strong walls and a well and enough space inside that we can be self-sufficient. Start making our own food."

T-Dog nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, this area's pretty rural. Not a lot of looting. If we had a place we could stockpile supplies we could probably collect enough to feed us all that long."

"There's a bunch of big warehouses in Stockbridge. It's not really the kind of place people gather, might be worth checking out." Maggie chimed in from the other side of Daryl. She had moved closer to the fire. " We could clear out a few and build a fence fifty yards out to keep the walkers from surprising us before we can make a proper wall."

"Or we could go to the big mall outside of Mableton." Beth added "It hardly has any windows, we could board up all the doors and the zombies wouldn't know we were even in there."

Rick came in from the outskirts to take control of the conversation. "Alright then. Does anyone have anything to write with? We'll make a list of places we might be able to hole up and start making plans to scout them out in the morning. I think the top of that list should be West Central prison. If we are where I think we are then it's less than a mile from here."

Everyone started offering up survival plans then (some sensible and some bat-shit insane) as Lori jotted them down on the back of the insurance forms retrieved from the truck. The mood was hardly jovial, but everyone looked just a little less hopeless so Glenn considered it a win. Daryl scootched closer and nudged Glenn with his shoulder. Glen turned to offer him a smile which quickly became more heated when he saw the wicked gleam in Daryl's eye.

"ya' know, that pickup has a nice long bench seat in it." Daryl stood and stretched and started to casually meander towards said pickup. Glenn nearly fell flat on his face in his rush to follow.

The End!

AN: Finally! I have ideas for season 2, which I plan to write from Daryl's POV, but sadly, I still haven't seen it. I might have to switch up the format a bit too, rereading this I thought my following the show while not quoting the show was a bit disjointed. I will try to clean that up in the sequel! :) Reviews are much appreciated!


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